Hunting Hyne
by Creative Vizhion
Summary: Time Compression was beaten, but the same cannot be said for its aftereffects. When you disturb the earth, things crawl out. Reviews appreciated.
1. Ch I: Shadows of Things to Come

_Final Fantasy VIII and all associated concepts are the property of Square.  
I'm not sure this qualifies as an M rating, so I'll stick it at T. May contain minor corse language or adult themes; will definitely contain some violence._

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* * *

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_Location: Winhill Bluffs, Galbadia  
Date: 175 After Centra – The Sorceress War_

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* * *

_

It was a small village, one of a dozen almost identical ones along Galbadia's south-eastern coast. The Estharian army, crossing the sea from the Centra continent in a currently futile attempt to gain a stronghold in the Winhill region, would have swept it off the map like a speck of dust-- if it had not been for the tired and somewhat reduced group of Galbadian soldiers now shuffling their way back into town.

The village of Suni was almost deserted, most of its inhabitants having fled when the news of the invasion came over the radio waves. The hotel remained open, though, and most of the exhausted soldiers headed in that direction; the remainder entered the village's only tavern.

The last soldier passing through the door had to crouch slightly to fit: the man who was known as "Packhorse" by his unit and properly called Ward by his sergeant stood an impressive seven feet, dwarfing every opponent he came across. Every human opponent, anyway.

No sooner had he sunk into a chair at a table in the far end of the room than a voice said, "Drink, Mr. Zabac?"

Looking up, he met the green-eyed gaze of a young girl. She was offering him a beer from the tray in her hand.

"Yeah, thanks."

Something on her wrist beeped, a watch-shaped device Ward did not recognize. She glanced at it as she returned to the bar. Ward and his company left town the next day, and he did not see her again. He wondered for a long time where she had learnt his name.

When he eventually learned what the device on her wrist was, he wondered even more. Twenty years later, he still looked back and questioned how she could have gotten a Para-Magical Cargo Compartment-- a PaCC-- almost a decade before they were supposedly invented.

* * *

--- - - - - - - - - - - ---

**HUNTING HYNE**

--- - - - - - - - - - - ---

"_COME, said the Muse,  
__Sing me a song no poet yet has chanted,  
__Sing me the Universal._

_In this broad Earth of ours  
__Amid the measureless grossness and the slag,  
__Enclosed and safe within its central heart,  
__Nestles the seed Perfection._

_By every life a share or more or less,  
__None born but it is born,  
__Conceal'd or unconceal'd, the seed is waiting_._"_

– "Song of the Universal," Walt Whitman

* * *

**Chapter I: Shadows of Things to Come

* * *

**

_Location: Rinuald_ _Coast, Balamb  
__Date: 197 AfCen

* * *

_

Rayner Harvey adjusted the fit of the bandana wrapped around his head, tucking a lock of reddish hair away from the lens of the tiny camera concealed within. Reaching down, he pressed a few latches on his mechanical right forearm and twisted it off with a click. The whole thing came away, leaving only the metal connector plate just beneath his elbow and the cylindrical interface sticking out in the centre.

The metal hand vanished into the PaCC he kept clipped to his belt. Then, leaning over, he inserted the interface into the end of the foot-long prosthetic gun, slightly wider than his already muscular arms, that was leaning against his leg. Flipping up a small panel, he pressed a button and the connectors shot home with a series of clicks. The weapon hummed softly as it powered up.

"Twelve minutes." SeeD Instructor Kyler Merton leaned against the wall of the sea cave, watching his student's preparations. "Whenever you're ready."

Grunting his acknowledgement, Rayner hit another switch and the arm gun went through a quick diagnostic. When it finished, a hole opened at the rounded end of the gun and a short barrel extended forward.

Rayner took a deep breath. "All set."

Instructor Merton picked up his spear from resting place on the cave wall and smoothed out the tuft of green feathers near its head. "Lead on, then."

The two advanced up a narrow path beside a stream moving through the cave down to the sea. The trail had started off sandy, but now it was thick with stones and pebbles. Rayner held his weapon at the ready, keeping a careful lookout for aggressive monsters; the Instructor was much more at ease-- but of course, it wasn't _his_ performance being assessed.

The tunnel ended in a wide cavern, a pool with no visible inlet in its centre. Steam wafted over it, and bubbles occasionally rose from its invisible depths to break upon the surface.

"Ten minutes. All ready?"

A deep breath, probably to calm his nerves, and a nod.

"Everything junctioned properly?"

Another nod.

"Good." The Instructor's next words were directed outwards, echoing through the Water Cave. "Ready."

Without warning, the surface of the pool was rent as a long, serpentine shape burst through. Water cascaded from the dragon-like head and the wide frill that stretched down the great neck. The snake-monster screamed, a long, strangely musical sound, and thrust its jaws right at Rayner.

The combatant was already prepared and sidestepped neatly, swinging his metal arm around to smash against the beast's head, shouting as he did so, "Attack it!"

As the water guardian retreated Kyler's spear stabbed in, its spatulate blade scoring a moderate slice along the neck. The creature hissed, and swung its head around like a club, catching Kyler and throwing him right at his student…

…Who rolled, coming up with his left hand crackling with electricity and pointing right at the serpent's head. "Thunder!"

The bolt of gold and blue energy snarled out, sizzling along the beast's flesh. It took Rayner a horrified moment to realize that the thing had taken the spell without flinching…and now, the cut beneath its head had vanished.

Then he was dodging another snap of the jaws as he was attacked again.

"This is the Water Cave, right?" he shouted angrily at his instructor. "This thing should be weak against Thunder energy!"

"I never said that," returned Kyler.

Swearing and dodging another bite attack, Rayner returned, "Scan it, then!" Grabbing and twisting a metal ring around the end of his weapon, Rayner heard the high buzz that meant his gun had been charged cocked. Raising it, he shot a stream of golden light directly at the monster's eyes. The blow was critical, and the creature roared its hurt to the ceiling.

"Its name is Syldra," shouted Kyler as the Scan returned information. "Not a lot of health, but more than anything you've dealt with so far. Strong versus Water. Absorbs Thunder. Fast, but not too strong."

Rayner shouted with pain as a Thunder spell took him to his knees.

"Good with magic, by the way."

"I can tell." Rayner winced and fired another bolt as he got to his feet. "Use Blizzard!"

The shot sizzled along the snake-thing's neck an instant before chunk of ice the size of a human body smashed into the back of the head. It snarled in anger.

The sound was joined by six other growls, each in a slightly different pitch, as that many other shapes burst from the water, each an exact duplicate of the snake-creature.

"That's another thing; it has several heads. The body is still underwater."

"Just great," said Rayner weakly as the seven extremities hissed and snarled above him.

One head thrust itself delicately in his direction, and water was suddenly condensing in the air around him. He tried to run, but the liquid was surrounding him, suffocating him, lifting him up…

…And throwing him right into the wall of the cave.

The camera broke.

* * *

_Location: Balamb Garden

* * *

_

"That's _it_?"

Chanda Malie stared in disbelief at the empty screen on her study panel. Then she ejected the video chip, shut off the screen, and sprinted to the door of the classroom, barely allowing the doors to slide open before she squeezed through them.

The sun was shining through the windows placed high on the second floor, but Chanda barely noticed as she raced for the elevators.

As she watched through the elevator's glass door as it descended, she did take a moment to appreciate the beauty that was in front of her, that both of the weather and of Balamb Garden itself. The first floor lobby of the main building was an enormous room: the elevators rose and descended through a central column, encircled by a brightly painted walkway. The wall of the walkway was edged with slightly overstuffed planters; beyond that, dolphin-shaped fountains sprayed crystal water into a surrounding indoor pool. Another, more primary walkway, wide enough to support the multitude of students attending the Garden, made another circle over top of the water, and still others reached into eight hallways around the room's perimeter. The vast enclosure was brightly lit by the lights hanging overhead. The gentle colours and the sound of the water, blending with the distant murmur of conversation, gave the building a very welcoming, friendly feel.

The Garden was one of the few remaining Centra Shelters left in the world. When it had been purchased by the Garden's deceased Shumi administrator for the purpose of turning it in to an academy, Headmaster Cid Kramer had made sure that good money was spent turning it into a giant work of art, a place that could be called home by the orphans who were among the first SeeD students.

Chanda raced out of elevator and around the secondary walkway so quickly that she nearly fell down the stairs connecting it to the rest of the room. As her feet met with the floor again, she took off around the pathway until she passed a purple arrow painted on the floor.

She skidded as she turned and raced into the long passage leading to the Infirmary, with short walls that opened onto a courtyard on either side. She vaulted one such barrier, raced over the grass, jumped a hedge, ran up a path, skidded to a stop on some cobblestones, and threw the video chip at the young man who sat, reading, on a bench under a tree.

Rayner caught it without looking.

"You little _cheat_! The only important part of the test and the stupid thing didn't _record_!"

"You asked for the chip to study with, I gave it to you," said Rayner. "And quiet down; you know we're not supposed to record the prerequisite events."

"I am going to _kill _you!"

"I will entrust my soul to God," said Rayner, without looking up from the book.

Chanda sank onto the bench with a groan. "Look, you big lug, could you at least _tell _me what happened?"

"What's to tell? It was like a regular battle, just a bit bigger. Syldra drew a Water spell from Instructor Merton and cast it on me. Merton gave me a potion. Syldra cast Thunder on Merton who, for some reason, had junctioned an elemental defence against Thunder energy and hadn't told me, which I think is against the rules, but it kept us alive, so oh well. I was able to trigger my Special Art, so I set my gun to Gattler Mode and decimated four of the heads. Merton did this thing where he absorbed Syldra's energy through his spear. Syldra got angry enough to crawl onto land, which was a mistake, 'cause I switched to Torpedo Mode and got several good shots in at its body. Finally, it announced that I had proved my strength and it would join me."

Chanda, who had been unable to keep up with this, let her head fall into her hands. "Great, but it doesn't help me."

"It tells you that Merton, nice as he is, is an evil-minded snake-in-the-grass who gets some kind of perverse pleasure out of throwing his students unprepared into dangerous situations. Good grief, what in Hyne's name is a Thunder-element Guardian Force doing in a place called the Water Cave, anyway?"

Chanda moaned. "I'm going to get _killed_."

"He should have told me he had a T-Elm-Def. I'd have had some heads up then."

"I've never been killed before. My first death is going to be during an _exam_."

"Oh, well. I lived, and got a GF. No harm done, I suppose."

"I'll probably kill my Instructor, too."

Rayner set his book aside. "Who's going with you?"

"I don't know. Maybe Instructor Hudson, knowing my luck."

"I don't know her."

"She's the poisonous old frog who does Exotic Anatomy lessons."

"Oh, yeah."

The two friends stared into space for a minute. Chanda was imagining Instructor Hudson's famous glare sapping the strength out of whatever GF was a part of the event; Rayner was wondering what sort of bizarre things were taught in a class called Exotic Anatomy.

"I think you'll pass," said Rayner eventually.

"And then I can take the SeeD practical and get myself killed again, along with whoever is unlucky enough to be in my squad." Chanda released a deep groan, and sat up. "Why am I here? I can't fight."

"You fight fine."

"I'm a wimp."

"Not once you've got a good Guardian Force to junction." Rayner cocked his head. "What GF are you borrowing for the event, anyway?"

"Golem's the only one available."

"Same one I had. He's cool. Very friendly, comes quickly when summoned. A bit too defensive for me, though."

"Humph."

"I'm sure you'll do fine."

Chanda sighed and stood up. "I'm going back to the dorms. I'll study Elemental Junctions or something."

Rayner returned to his book. "You're working too hard!" he shouted to her retreating back.

As Chanda returned to her studies, the Moon hung overhead, a silent behemoth in the late afternoon sky.

* * *

Thirty years ago, the test Chanda is about to take-- the hunting and obtaining of a Guardian Force-- would have been absurd. Even if people had known GFs existed, it would have been suicide to try and _catch_ one. 

That fact that it can now not only be done, but can be done safely enough to be used as an examination, is a testament to the genius of Dr. Odine.

Odine, a selenocratlogist from the Sorceress-ruled country of Esthar, was the first man to grasp the nature of the flows of energy running between the Planet and the Moon, to understand the eddies that roiled among those currents. Through the examination of these things he discovered the Guardian Forces, the energy beings who lived within those flows, and was the first man to capture and hold one in a setting in which it could be studied. He is known for other discoveries as well, some of which have changed the face of humanity.

Odine examined the technology of Esthar and Galbadia and Dollet, countries that rose from the doomed Centra civilization. He looked at the energy that people took for granted, that powered the weapons of the Galbadians and the cities of Esthar, and imagined a day when people could command that power without the use of tools.

That day arrived when Esthar's ruler Adel permitted Odine to study her power, the sorcery that had been passed from woman to woman in the eons since it was given to humanity by Hyne himself. Through his study, Odine developed a greater understanding of the nature of the Sorceresses – and realized how their power could be echoed, if not duplicated, by everyday humans.

Thus was para-magic, the human control of energy, envisioned and invented.

Time goes on, and things change. Esthar launched the bloody Second Sorceress War, which ended in the imprisonment of Adel and the withdrawal of Esthar from global affairs. A vast weapon intended to harness the power of the Moon, called the Lunatic Pandora, was built-- and was crashed into the ocean by a mildly incompetent rebel before it could be used. Radio Silence began: noise across all frequencies made communication by radio waves impossible. The mercenary group SeeD, combat specialists who combined with GFs to strengthen themselves and their magic, was founded and quickly grew to have influence worldwide.

Odine's technology changed too. In the distant future, the Sorceress Ultimecia used one of his inventions to send her consciousness back in time in a bid to compress time together and gain the power of all Sorceresses throughout history. In less then a year, a new set of changes rocked the world: Galbadia was taken over by the Sorceress, and turned against the rest of the world in a new Sorceress War; the Lunatic Pandora was recovered and unleashed; monsters poured from the Moon in a Lunar Cry that devastated Esthar; Adel was released and slain hours later; Radio Silence ended after seventeen years; and Ultimecia's plans were realized, as she created Time Compression.

As the past, present and future fused together, a group of modern day SeeDs moved to the future, killed Ultimecia, and undid all that she had created. The endless moment of Time Compression was bypassed.

Times have changed again since then. Esthar, overwhelmed by monsters and quickly running low on resources, is re-entering the global village. The dictatorial government of Galbadia has collapsed in the wake of Ultimecia's defeat, and a new one is being constructed. The Planet is exhaling after a catastrophe which could have marked the end of creation. Seeds of the future are being planted.

Indeed, SeeDs are everywhere: acting as ambassadors and diplomats for Esthar, hunting monsters deposited by the Lunar Cry, even creating a temporary government for Galbadia as an official one is set up. SeeD has become famous; they have been lauded as the Planet's first line of defence against rampaging Sorceresses, and are advertising themselves as such. And even as they advocate for a new era of peace, they recruit new members, and sharpen their swords.

Time Compression happened; nothing can change that. For one instant, past, present and future melded. The Planet left the worst of its effects behind – but how does one truly escape from a calamity that reached to touch each and every instant of time?

* * *

Chanda's roommate was absent, which was fortuitous for the SeeD candidate, because she was free to make a mess of the dorm. 

A pair of magnifying goggles had been placed over her eyes. With a set of tiny tools she was carefully hooking together a series of small wires in what was, when she began, one of a dozen digital clocks she had purchased in pawn shop in Balamb, and when she ended would be the last of a dozen small explosives designed to rain burning death down upon whatever monster was stupid enough to get in her way, GF included. The tiny adjustments she was making would filter out the Fire energy, making sure the damage was non-elemental; if she going after a Fire GF, she didn't want to heal it with each attack she made…

As she sealed the casing shut and placed it in her PaCC with the others, there was a tap at the door.

The man standing outside was dressed in dark blue jeans and a familiar violet shirt with a silver dragon coiling up and over a shoulder, with black hair and a sparse beard, both showing hints of grey.

It was Instructor Kyler Merton.

"Hello, Chanda. Ready to go?"

Chanda blinked. "What, just like that?"

Merton smiled. "Just like that."

"OK."

"Do you need to get anything?"

"No…I'm all set."

"Then let's be off."

* * *

"Welcome to Mistway." 

They had walked up to the mountains on the west side of the Balamb continent, on Raha Cape; there had been a couple of random encounters with monsters on the way, but nothing the two of them could not handle. Now, Chanda was standing at the foot of a peak, looking up at cleft in the rock.

"Your GF's inside that cave," said Kyler. "You are free to use any means necessary to capture it: attack it with your weapon, with your special techniques, with the magic you've drawn from your opponents, anything you wish. The GF has been sleeping for several years now, and is weak as a result; to pass the test, you just need to overpower it. I'll accompany you and help you in any way I can, but I can't do it for you or provide you with resources you haven't acquired on your own. Understand everything?"

"Yes."

"One last thing: the event is timed. Anywhere between fifteen minutes and an hour for this route."

Chanda watched the cave nervously. "I'll go with fifteen, then."

Kyler smiled and nodded. "Let's go."

A member of the Garden Faculty blocked the entrance. As Instructor Merton spoke quietly to him, Chanda produced her specialty weapon, a war fan, from its resting place in her belt. She had spent almost half a year figuring out how where to buy this; the material, while being as flexible as fabric, was still strong enough to shrug off a sword blow, and it was laced between blades of metal instead of pieces of wood. She had another in her belt, and a third in her PaCC, just in case.

The Instructor waved her over. "The clock is ticking. Lead the way."

There was a breeze blowing from inside Mistway, as cold and hard as ice.

* * *

Ten minutes later, it was even colder. Chanda was wearing a grey halter top, along with a comfortable pair of worn jeans, and not for the first time since the test had started was wishing she had asked to change before they left. She had expected the air to be warmer this far underground; instead, frost was crystallizing on the walls. 

She advanced carefully through the tunnel, hands held loosely at her sides. Kyler kept pace behind her, his spear-point tracing curving paths through the air as he kept watch as well. Buels and Red Bats infested the cave, and the two warriors had already been involved in several fights. Of slightly more concern were the squid-like Glacial Eyes, who were slightly stronger than the ones Chanda had tackled coming up the mountain.

"How am I doing so far?" ask Chanda as they paced their way through the tunnels.

"Nine minutes left. You're doing well," said Kyler softly. "Looking forward to a GF of your own?"

"I suppose so."

"How's Golem doing?"

"Excellently," replied Chanda, quickly checking her junction to him as she did so. It was unnecessary; the Guardian had obviously been doing this for a long time, and the link was secure. Golem sent a hum of reassurance into her head, and settled back into place. "He's a friendly one."

"He's been with Garden since it was founded; he came in with Instructor Mosuki. Enjoy him while you have the chance. This is his last job."

"Really?" Chanda found herself grateful for the conversation; it helped to keep her mind off the struggle ahead. "Why's that?"

"Mosuki's retiring. When that happens, he wants Golem to go free."

"That's a pity," said Chanda, feeling the warmth of the junction. "Not that he's going free, I mean. But he's a nice GF to start off with."

"Yes." The Instructor's eyes had gone forward. "But you won't need him for much longer. The heart of Mistway's ahead!"

Chanda looked, and indeed, the tunnel ended not far off: a set of stairs sloped upwards, into a new section of the caverns. After running into several dead ends, it was a bit of a relief.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked upwards. The stairs disappeared into a thick fog.

"All ready?" said Kyler, looking upwards.

Chanda took a deep, steadying breath, trying to slow her heart down. "As much as I'll ever be."

"Lead on, then."

As she ascended the staircase, cold mist swirled and danced around her ankles, thickening until the steps she climbed were obscured. A surprisingly short climb brought her to a level surface; the tunnel's walls stretched outwards, but she could perceive nothing of the place she had entered through the choking fog.

"Instructor?"

"Walk forward."

She did, one hand drifting up to where her PaCC rested on her belt. In a moment she had lost the tunnel entrance entirely; she now had no sense of direction or location at all, and could have been floating in space for all she knew. The cave's namesake mist was so thick she could not see her hands though it.

No, she _could _see her hands through it.

"I think the mist's thinning, Instructor!" she said excitedly. When there was no response she turned to face him, or at least to face the direction she thought he was.

"Instructor? What's wrong?"

As the mist began clearing, Kyler's silhouette became visible. It looked like he had struck and was holding a pose; he was at ease, leaning on his spear, one hand raised in a SeeD salute.

"Instructor, what are you…doing…" Chanda's voice trailed off as the fog thinned further.

Kyler was Petrified. His spear remained unchanged, but his body and clothes had turned to stone; his face was frozen into the slightly mischievous grin of a magician revealing his trick.

Chanda's heart pounded within her. _Holy Hyne, I've walked into a trap_.

_And Merton was _expecting _it, the rat_.

Trying to use the relaxation techniques Instructor Nanashi had taught her, Chanda stood motionlessly for a moment, scanning the clearing air around her for any sign of her target. When several seconds had passed and there was no sign of an attack, she relaxed a bit. Whatever trick Kyler had prepared for her had not completely revealed itself.

The trick had not, but the cavern had. As the fog faded from the air, it was revealed as exactly that: a great cavern, as wide as Balamb Garden's lobby, its floor scattered with large rocks. There were no stalactites or stalagmites; the stone of the distant ceiling was dotted with crystal deposit, creating a realistic illusion of a night sky. The omnipresent mist swirled everywhere. The room was incredibly beautiful.

Leaving Kyler, Chanda walked towards the chamber's centre. Despite the flow of the mist, she could feel no movement in the air, and the cavity was completely silent; her footsteps echoed off the distant walls.

The centre of the chamber came into view. An iron cauldron sat on a pile of stones; mist frothed and boiled over the edges as Chanda approached cautiously.

A voice suddenly rasped from inside.

"_An intruder comes to my cave._"

Chanda stifled a yelp of surprise as fog billowed out from the cauldron, shrouding the ground and air further. The hazy cloud swirled upwards, spun, condensed…

…And where before there was only vapour, there was now a shape. Pale smoke writhed and flowed into a vaguely humanoid form, a shadowed figure wrapped in a grey robe from which tendrils of mist continued to drift. Two piercing, yellow lights shone from where the figure's eyes would be expected.

The hissing, rasping voice came not from the Guardian Force's head, but from the gaseous streams trailing off of it.

"_If you wish to borrow my power…prove your strength_."

All of a sudden one arm dissolved into a rushing stream of vapour that sprayed like a hose at the SeeD candidate.

Caught off guard, Chanda was unable to block the blow. The semisolid appendage passed straight through her, as if she were the insubstantial one; the impact was nonexistent, but the pain it caused was very real. Chanda leaped away from the creature with a gasp as it struck again.

The ghost struck a third time, but now Chanda had raised her guard: her hand snapped up from her waist, flicking away the shuriken deftly pulled from her PaCC. Fuelled by Golem's strength-enhancing junction and her own personal power, the spatulate blade shot forward as if propelled from a gun. The GF's arm dissolved into a hazy cloud as the metal tore through it, ruining the attack.

The Guardian's outline blurred as it flew into the air, pausing only to thrust another pseudo-arm at Chanda. She dodged it easily, reaching as she did so deep into her mind, calling up another junction and tracing its path down to its source.

Strength rushed back to her, the feeling of Golem moving in her and with her. Together, they reached into the place where Chanda kept her magic, releasing a pattern of invisible energy waves and letting them draw power from the air.

Her opponent's shape seemed to freeze in midair as red and green lights overlaid it; patterns and text only she could see flashed in her vision as the Scan spell analyzed the creature and returned information.

_Phantom_, Chanda thought as she read the results. _A ghost of the void, making its home in Mistway; an honourable spirit, it will lend its abilities to those it deems worthy_.

_Flying, Undead. Not as much health as she expected. Poor strength, but good magic power; not hurt easily by physical attacks, but may be vulnerable to black magic. Very fast, good at evading damage. Immune to Wind energy, absorbs Water and Ice. Very weak against Fire_.

The readout vanished.

The data had been processed so quickly that Phantom had not even begun to attack again. The two opponents circled each other, Chanda's mind racing to create a strategy.

_It's undead. Weak against curative magic, then_. A Cure would harm it, and something that could cause life to return could destroy it – or, since this was a GF, sap its strength. She had some Phoenix down in her PaCC…

_No_, she decided, remembering the Guardian's opening words. Phoenix down might beat it, but it would hardly demonstrate her skill. She needed a slower way to achieve victory.

_Not really a problem; there are plenty of slower ways_.

Phantom attacked again, its arm striking with blinding speed.

The time it took for the vaporous jets to close the gap between the two was all Chanda needed to yank her war fans into her hands and snap them open. One weapon blocked the blow, and the other lashed out in retaliation; the ghostly appendage dissolved as the blades struck it. The fog felt like paper ripping.

For the next minute Chanda stuck to her defence, moving only to block attacks. Phantom moved in quick bursts of swiftness, suddenly moving around her every couple of moments, pausing only to strike out with semisolid arms. Chanda observed it carefully, memorizing its movements, waiting for an opportunity…

_Now_.

As Phantom dodged behind her, Chanda reached out to Golem again, shaping a new spell. As she spun to face her enemy, a ball of flame ignited in the air over her fan as she fashioned and altered the magic.

As the Guardian attacked, Chanda swung her weapon, shouting, "_Fire_!"

The fireball launched forward, boiling away the attacking arms and blasting into Phantom's torso. The ghost leapt away through the air with a surprised snarl at the sudden offensive.

Chanda pushed it, leaping forward in a series of flowery manoeuvres to cut at the smoky torso. Phantom hissed at her as it retreated.

"_Show me your true strength, human._"

"_Veiling Mist_!"

The fog returned in a rush, rising off the ground and wrapping itself around Phantom. The Guardian Force swelled, shifted, changed…

…and expanded in a cloud of mist with an audible snap, filling the air with chilling droplets. Chanda flinched as the cold air struck her, and in that moment, Phantom vanished.

Chanda backed quickly away from the cauldron, eyes rapidly scanning the chamber for movement. The flicker of Phantom's silhouette in the corner of her eye brought her fan around, but the blades cut through empty vapour.

"_Your time is running out_."

The SeeD candidate whirled around, her heart beating wildly, but the space from which the voice had projected was empty.

As she turned again, a Blizzard spell crystallized in the air around her, and she cried out as the heat was painfully sapped from her body.

"_You are failing_."

A jet of mist lashed out of the air, sending a lance of pain up her side. She was shivering with cold now.

"_You are freezing_." Blizzard.

"_You are helpless_." Mist blow.

"_You are failing_." Mist blow.

"_You are weak_." Blizzard.

"SHUT UP! _Fire_!"

The red light of the spell blossomed through the mist, but failed to damage its target. The sudden gusts of ice and whispered taunts rained out of the cloud around her unabatedly.

"_You are not a fighter_."

"_You are not a mage_."

"_You will NEVER be a SeeD_."

"_You will die_."

"_You have no defence_."

The last heatless blow caught Chanda full in the face, sending her reeling. She caught her foot on a stone, stumbled backwards, and fell. As she tried to regain her footing, she reflexively reached to Golem for help…

…and realized she was not defenceless.

"Come, Golem!"

* * *

_Location: Centra Crater

* * *

_

Wheels skidded over the dust of Centra as a buggy made its getaway.

The two men inside the vehicle – two thieves – were confident in the success of their endeavour and escape. Every part of the plan had been executed with precision.

Therefore, they were completely and quite understandably caught off guard when the cartoon hero Laliho the Dwarf, complete with the white beard and the rocket-powered jetpack, appeared in midair alongside them and proceeded to use his Magic Hammer (forged for the conquering of the Goblins of Mischief !™) to violently cripple their wheels.

The buggy skidded out of control as the first wheel met its fate, and spun to a rough stop. One of the two men leapt out, raising a gun to dispose of the flying television personality, only to fall to the ground with an arrow between his eyes; an almost imperceptible instant later a single shot split the air, and the driver of the vehicle twitched in his seat and was still.

After a moment, three figures stepped from behind the cover of sparse vegetation that was scattered over the near area.

"You know, you really didn't have to kill them," said Cole Guzo. A gesture with his green gloves brought Laliho back to him; as soon as his hands touched the dwarf, its life and size seemed to be drawn out of it, reducing it to the small plastic toy it actually was.

"Actually, I missed. I was aiming for his shoulder." Katarin Casey pressed a small knob on the hollow metal bow hanging loosely her hand and it folded in on itself, the sliver bowstring vanishing with a click.

"Really? Bummer. I'd have aimed at an arm, then." Mackenzie Zand replaced the spent bullet in his revolver before returning it to its holster.

The three approached the wreckage, where a cursory examination revealed the thieves' quarry.

"Here," said Katarin, holding up a disk. "Is this all they took?"

"It looks like it," said Cole, Scanning the vehicle before turning his attention to the disk itself. He blinked in surprise as the spell analysed the object. "Huh."

"What?"

"A blueprint. Just one."

"That's a good thing," quipped Mackenzie.

"It's a design of a rather old Galbadian missile."

"That's not so good."

"So what do we do with it?" asked Katarin.

"We give it to Garden." Mackenzie began leading the way back to the hidden car. "There's not much else we can do; we don't have any evidence of what their plans might be."

"This is a weird contract," said Cole; a twitch of his hand sent Laliho orbiting around his head. "Why'd they put so much effort into stealing one out-of-date weapon, and then drag it halfway across the world to the most barren continent on the Planet?"

* * *

Icy droplets sprayed through Chanda's skin again, but now she could feel Golem's power gathering in her body. The old Guardian absorbed the blow without flinching. 

"_Nothing can aid you, human_."

"Come Golem, come Golem, come…"

Chanda winced as another Blizzard struck at her, but again her Guardian Force took the damage for her. In the brief respite from chill and pain the gentle guardian provided her with, the fighter chanted softly at the edge of her breath, calling Golem, whispering about his target and his attack, trying to control the trembling in her arms and legs as the new power filled and subsumed her own.

She had summoned GFs before, of course, but in training exercises and low-level fights only; if she lost her focus now, then she would have done nothing but drain her partner's strength. Worse, if the undead thing she was fighting could Silence her, and kept her from starting again the sub-vocalized litany that directed the summoning…

_Don't you dare think about that_.

Phantom struck and spelled again and again, no single blow doing great harm, but never stopping, slowing, or missing. Chanda blocked as best she could with the energy pulsing through her, throbbing as she chanted the name.

"Come Golem…"

Faster that she would have dared to hope, the metal creature was _there_, pouring out of the dark crevices of her mind to fill her completely, like a star igniting within a lamp.

"Come, Golem!"

Her fans snapped outward from her face as she put the last twists into the weave of the spell.

"_Earthy Embrace_!"

The magic poured from her without restraint; her body vanished from the cave, even as the cave itself shimmered and changed, the polished ground being replaced with grey rock. In a moment, the chamber had been completely displaced by the invading stone, leaving only the dense mist unchanged.

And there, looming through the mist, was Golem himself: a massive, misshapen amalgam of mechanical parts, five or six times as tall as a man, ejecting jets of hot steam from his joints and surrounded by the sound of rasping gears, with two yellow eye-lamps burning fiercely in his unadorned face. He took a few groaning steps toward the cloud, and his eyes flared brightly; he threw back his head and the heavy, thick metal jaw fell open, releasing a grinding, echoing roar from deep within his torso.

His hands reached out toward the fog, and hatches snapped open all over his arms and body. With one boom after another, small shells erupted from the various compartments, twisting through the air and trailing gouts of smoke.

Each one detonated as it struck the ground, vaporizing the mist around it.

As quickly as it had begun, the attack ended. Golem and his semi-tangible arena vanished, and Chanda was there again, catching her breath.

Phantom was there, too, its protective fog destroyed.

"_An Earth attack_?" The ghost hissed laughter as it retaliated. "_I fly, foolish girl. Earth can't hurt what it can't touch_…"

"_What_…!"

The jet of burning cold gas struck and slid along the translucent, shimmering, blocky armour that covered Chanda from head to foot, the secondary effect of Earthy Embrace. It becameinvisible again as Phantom cut off his attack in surprise.

She lunged before the ghost could recover from his confusion, dancing forward to slash at him. Phantom hissed in frustration as it struck again.

A second time the blow was absorbed, and this time Chanda did not allow it time for another move. She reached for a spell again, but this time she channelled it into her weapons, breaking apart the wave and letting the energy flow through the metal.

"_Imbue Fire_!"

Red light and waves of heat radiated from her fans as she lashed out in a furry of attacks, the burning blades striking through Phantom's substance again and again. As attack after attack hit, the Guardian shrieked in anger, surprise, and pain.

As Chanda leapt backwards, it stopped moving and spoke quite calmly. "_That will do_."

Chanda slowed and stumbled to a halt. "What?"

"_That will do. You have proven your strength_."

She stared. "I…just like that? I won?"

"_You did_." When this did not provoke an immediate response, Phantom started to say, "_Do you know_…"

"YES! I did it!" The GF was interrupted as Chanda shouted to the ceiling of the room and collapsed in a fit of relived laughter.

"I did it. I did it. I really did it…"

When Phantom spoke again, it was with a hint of amusement. "_Yes. Do you know how to draw my power?_"

"Yes, yes I do. Thank you. God, I can't believe I won!"

"_Then do so_."

Chanda tried to focus, but she was still giddy with the thrill of accomplishment. She had done it! After months of training and preparation, she had taken her first step to becoming a SeeD.

Gentle prompting from Golem brought her back to the matter at hand. Calming her breathing, and trying to control her thoughts, she followed a junction back to Golem and tapped his power. Then she reached out to Phantom, feeling the familiar waves of energy that could be rearranged into Cure spells, Blizzard, Scan…and one other incredibly complex shape, one she knew she was only feeling because Phantom allowed her too.

"_Draw Phantom_!"

The command set off a mental trigger so well practised as to be almost unconscious. She and Golem reached out together to touch the complex shape, to coax it into her.

The body of Phantom collapsed, the recognizable shape breaking down into a spinning cloud of mist. Streams of gas leapt in arcs out of the cloud and sprayed against Chanda's skin, the tiny droplets being absorbed right into her body.

When it finished, Phantom was gone.

At least, gone to everybody but Chanda.

"I did it!" She laughed again as the tension left her body. She dropped to her knees, nervous laughter still shaking her. "What in God's name just happened? I _won_!"

"And with a minute and a half left on the clock. Not bad."

Chanda turned with a start to see Merton, standing as casually as a bystander watching a sport.

"You! Why the heck did you _do_ that to me?"

The Instructor met her gaze with a smile. "You did fine."

"What if I had gotten killed?"

"You didn't," Kyler said with satisfaction. "You proved your worth. Phantom thinks you can be a SeeD."

That brought Chanda up short.

"Stand up, now. Junction Phantom, and try him out on the way back. I picked him for a reason; I think you two will work well together."

* * *

It was night when Chanda and Kyler walked down the mountain. 

"We should probably get a hotel in town. It's easier than hiking back tonight."

"Sounds good to me."

"Feeling better?"

"Much."

"Now, are you still grumpy that I made you spend an hour drawing Cure spells from monsters?"

A sigh. "_No_, Instructor." There was a chuckle in response.

A minute later, Chanda said, "I was really surprised it quit so quickly."

"Phantom has been beaten a couple times before. Its last host was killed in action; it's been living in Mistway for five years. Most beginner GFs are like that. They're rather weak when they sleep for a long time.

"Is that all it was? That it was too weak to fight for long?"

Even before her instructor answered, a familiar, raspy voice entered her mind. _Unlikely, girl._

"Probably not. Phantom has done this before. It knows how to recognize strength in humans."

Chanda hoped the darkness hid her sudden grin. "Huh." _Recognizes strength!_

_Do not read to much into it, girl. You must pass one more test to become SeeD, and it will be a difficult one_.

_Fighting Guardian Forces is supposed to be difficult, old guy. Honestly, how hard could it be?_

In the silence of her mind, Chanda felt Golem's amused resignation. If it had possessed eyes, it would have been rolling them.

_Wait and see, human._ Phantom settled back into her mind, shuffling itself around until the junction became comfortable.

The Balamb continent was cast in silver by the overhanging Moon. The lights of the town of Balamb were obscured by trees, and lost to view. On the other hand, the more distant glow of Balamb Garden was quite visible, a solitary beam of pale light reaching for the stars.

* * *

On the other side of the tiny continent was a small forest. In the centre of the forest, a T-Rexaur was dead. 

The giant lizard, the monster of which Balamb mothers told stories to frighten their children into good behaviour, had been slit open from jaw to tail-tip, its innards sliced up and strewn in a wide radius. It had not been killed: it had been _mutilated_.

A trail of blood stained the grass, leading towards the edge of the forest. At the boundary of the Alculd Plains, it smeared its way right up the trunk of a tree.

A figure knelt on one of the thicker branches. She was small, and slim, and covered in blood. The sticky fluid darkened the already murky grey of the rags she was wearing, and still dripped from the long, thin metal claws strapped to the backs of her hands.

The spectre's eyes were fixed on the far-away glow.

The forest was silent but for the wind in the trees and the person's whispering.

"Sleep, sleep children. No more rest, not for you. The One is coming, with her fiery truth…_Hyne_ is coming…"

The figure ran her claws slowly along the branch. Curls of bark fell to the ground.

"Sleep while you can, children." The girl's lips split in a giggle, like a child with a new toy. "It's a wild night."

The figure leapt from the branch, and landed silently. Stealthy as a shadow, she moved quickly towards the remote spike of light. The only sound she made was another small chuckle, a sound imparting contentment and anticipation and the promise of murder.

* * *

Notes and Trivia:  
_-- I hope I've done a good job of writing this for a non-FFVIII-playing audience.  
__-- The genre's a bit vague on this. Action / adventure works, and I certainly hope to turn it into a spiritual, but it may also contain elements of supernatural and suspense or, more likely, drama. I even hope to dabble in horror a bit.  
-- Any long-reaching story with this game will, of course, involve a calendar laying out the author's perceptions of the game's internal history and events. Mine's getting attached as an appendix. I'm considering adding character dossiers as well.  
__-- The word _selenocratology _and its derivative _selenocratologist_ come from Greek _selene_, "moon," _kratos_, "power," and _logos_, "discourse." It means, basically, the study of the power of the Moon. It seemed appropriate.  
-- Please be patient if updates to this one are slow in coming. There's a lot I can do with it, and I want it to be as perfect as possible. _


	2. Ch II: Secrets and Agendas

_Final Fantasy VIII and all associated concepts are the property of Square._

* * *

**Chapter II: Secrets and Agendas

* * *

**

Wind whipped through the halo of blue, white, and gold metals that was suspended over Balamb Garden. The light of the stylized ring was fading as the sun rose.

It gusted around the arch that hung over the path to the main doors. At the top of the arch was an engraved motto: _Excitate Vos e Somno, Liberi Fatali_.

It blew into the window of Chanda's dormitory room and across the pages of a textbook lying open on her bed.

The type on the pages was all about energy. It spoke of para-magic, the forces it relied on, how to draw it and refine it and cast it. It spoke of Guardian Forces, how they should and should not be captured and treated and utilized.

Energy was central to Garden and SeeD, and they stockpiled knowledge of it. Nothing was simply a matter of mind or body over matter, students were taught; whether it was tapping into one's creativity to paint a picture, or focusing one's strength to crush an enemy, everything ultimately came down to control over energy. Find the weakness in your opponent's energy, and it doesn't matter how strong their body is: you have surpassed the limits of their strength.

When you held a Guardian Force inside yourself, they were taught, and let its power mingle with your own, then you could control _lots_ of energy. And suddenly the limits of _your_ strength were much harder to reach.

SeeDs _hoarded_ information about energy. They knew about para-magic, and Guardian Forces, and Elements, and power flows, and crystals, and thaumaturgy…

…but they did not know everything.

They do not understand sorcery. They can resist it and monitor it and control it, but they have little idea where it comes from, how it works, and – worst of all – what it is truly capable of.

They do not understand Time Compression. They do not know what causes it, or what happens when it begins, and they have no idea at all what can happen afterwards.

* * *

_Location: Balamb Garden_

* * *

At some point in the past, somebody – probably Headmaster Cid – had installed bells in one of the higher rooms of the main building. As the rosy hue of twilight faded from the morning sky, they echoed over the grounds. 

Instructor Kazuo Nanashi listened, balancing on the highest of a series of wooden poles placed upright in the ground of one of the courtyards. He looked like somebody passing out of middle age, and had a bit of an unusual appearance: he was almost abnormally skinny, his hair was sparse and completely white, and he was perpetually dressed in a loose saffron shirt and matching pants, which he claimed was because they made him look like a monk.

A few students wandered through the court, but none gave him a passing glance. People were used to him.

As the bells faded, Kazuo sighed contentedly and adjusted his position, setting back on one leg with the other stretched out in front of him, his arms extended to the sides. Closing his eyes, he began to quiet his mind, seeking again the meditative state the bells had interrupted.

Something prodded him roughly in the rear, sending him toppling forward.

The assault had come at just the right moment to take him by surprise, and the failing of his arms as he tried to catch himself only served to swing him farther off balance. With a sharp yelp, he somersaulted forward to land face-up on the grass.

Blinking and trying to reorient himself, he became aware the sun was being blocked. He squinted upwards, recognizing the figure hovering over him after only a moment.

"Kyler, you clown."

"It's not my fault. You should pay more attention to what's around you." Kyler nudged him again with the butt of his spear before returning it to his PaCC, the grin never leaving his face.

"I am not supposed to be paying attention to what's around me. I am supposed to be _meditating_." He sighed. "The least you can do to make amends is to help a frail old man to his feet."

"As if."

"You will just leave me here to suffer, then?"

"Right." Kyler leaned against the pole Kazuo had just vacated.

Kazuo sighed, and in a surprisingly nimble movement swung his legs over his head, rolled, and came to his feet right beside Kyler.

"See?" said Kyler.

"Just because I could wipe the floor with you in a fight does not mean you cannot show some respect for my age," said Kazuo, his customary look of cheerfulness returning to his face.

"You think you could beat _me_, old man?"

The light-hearted bickering continued as the two strolled from one courtyard into another, the ebb and flow of students breaking around them. Eventually, as the mock-argument stuttered to a halt, they turned their attentions to other matters.

"It will not be too long before the next SeeD exam," said Kazuo.

Kyler looked at his friend with interest. "We've got a suitable contract?"

"No," said Kazuo cheerfully. "But Squall is apparently tired of having to wait. You know that a large group of students is choosing the apprenticeship option?

"Yes."

"And that one former apprentice was killed when he was sent into the field?"

"God, yes."

"The Commander is putting an end to it; he says he is not going to send Garden to fight an out-of-control Sorceress only to find that it is staffed by people who sweet-talked their way past their trainers but would have failed an actual military examination."

"Huh."

"So he is transferring a group of cadets to the excavation site."

Kyler perked up. "Really?"

"Have you heard about Cole Guzo's contract?"

"He was investigating a string of technology and weapons-related thefts from the West Continent."

"Apparently, he and his squad were able to recover some stolen blueprints from some thieves fleeing into Centra, not that far off from the site."

"Now _that's _interesting."

"You look thoughtful, friend. Are you thinking of recommending anyone for the transfer?"

Without speaking, Kyler gestured to the courtyard. Kazuo's questing eyes picked out the only two figures not passing through on the way to one place or another. Each one of them sat against one of the two trees in the yard, and each was engrossed in a book. They sat facing in opposite directions; the symmetry of the image was spoiled somewhat by the amount by which one figure dwarfed the other.

It was the larger person Kazuo recognized first, a hulking young man wearing green army pants and heavy boots. A white shirt was stretched over his well-built torso, and a tattered brown jacket had been thrown over that; a shadow of a beard was beginning to appear along his jaw, and his long, ruffled reddish hair was held put of his face by a dark bandana. His hands were hidden by black gloves, but the right sleeve of his jacket had been rolled up to the elbow, revealing metal where muscle should have been.

"That is Rayner Harvey, is it not? I saw him on the target range."

"Yup."

"You want to send him?"

"Both of them." Kyler nodded in the direction of the other reader. She was a dark-haired girl, dressed in a blue skirt and white blouse, a pair of reading glasses sitting loosely on her nose as her green eyes flickered rapidly over the words in her book. Kazuo's sharp gaze picked up the title _The History of the Dollet Empire_ on the cover.

"Who is that? I do not recognize her."

"That's Leah Ammiel."

"Really?" Kazuo looked again, surprised. Leah was something of an enigma to most of the Garden Instructors; she was always very introverted, almost to the point of making herself invisible. These days awareness was growing about the memory loss GF use could cause and people were taking steps to preserve their memories, and yet she still managed to remain in the background of most people's recollections.

How many friends did she have at the Garden? The Headmaster was familiar with her, as was Kyler, but Kazuo did not know any others.

"I am surprised that I have never seen her before."

"Oh, she's been travelling. Though the Western Continent and the north coast of Centra."

"What, before she has made SeeD? How did she pay for it?"

"I paid her way."

That got Kazuo's attention, but he decided not to comment on it. If another Instructor was willing to stick his neck out that far for her, she must be an unusual student. "Will she be able to make SeeD?"

"She'll be another Leonhart."

_And Commander Squall Leonhart is friends with the leaders of all of the world superpowers, directs the most powerful military force on the planet, is considered to be the pinnacle of both conventional and para-magical combat prowess, orchestrated the defeat of the most powerful sorceress who could ever possibly exist, and is just leaving his teens,_ Kazuo thought. _You really think she is something special._ Looking at her himself, Kazuo could not see what Kyler did; Leah was comparatively short and slim – especially contrasted against the six-foot muscular tank that Rayner was.

_But I know better than most that power can come from unexpected places._

"I can see you have faith in her," he settled for saying.

"When you see her in action, you will too."

The two instructors started walking again, unnoticed by the two students. Kyler was bending their path towards the main building. He needed to prepare for his homeroom class.

"Will you be joining us for poker tonight, Kaz?"

Kazuo made a face. "Gambling is immoral and addicts one to the temporary pleasures of the flesh. It ensnares souls and ruins lives."

"That's a no?"

"You think I will pass up the chance to beat you to powder and make a fortune doing it? Nonsense."

* * *

"Welcome. Please take your seats." 

Kyler's face remained in its 'Hi-I'm-a-friendly-instructor-let's-be-friends' look, not giving a hint that he was trying not to be amused by the almost palpable disappointment radiating from one of the young men entering the classroom…Jonah, that was his name. Kyler was the first instructor he had who arrived in class before anybody else, and he still hoped for the day when the teacher would be late and allow him to chat with his friends before class started.

As that group of students moved to their desks, Chanda walked in, radiating smugness. Kyler shared a smile with her as she went to her seat. He thought, _That girl's confidence is as fickle as a fairy. She needs some experience she can really rely on, some way of proving to herself that she can really be a SeeD._

_We'll see how well she does in Centra._

Students continued to file in. Rayner arrived shortly after Chandra, his book – one about ancient Centran engineering, Kyler could see now – tucked under his arm. He smiled when he saw Chanda was back, raised an eyebrow at the self-satisfied look he received. He then slid in beside a friend on the other side of the room.

Leah was not quite the last to come. She had changed into her cadet's uniform, and had apparently managed to make a trip to the library; she was carrying a new book, _The Sorceress War_, in place of the one she had been reading for the last little while.

Kyler's memory threw up an image of the lines that had been forming in the library the past few days. How she managed to get from the yard to the dormitories to the library to the classroom, on time and without apparently exerting herself, was beyond him.

Leah had a study panel to herself at the back of the classroom.

_I know she has friends, because she sends letters to them, but I've never seen her spend a lot of time with anybody in this academy. And she's been here…how long has she been here?_

_Too long not to form any attachments, anyway. Somebody in Garden has to be able to figure her out._

An idea planted itself right in the centre of his mind, one that had occurred to him before but had never really been given proper consideration. Perhaps it was time to revisit it.

_Later_, he thought as the watch built into his PaCC went off.

"All right, let's begin," he said, silencing the class. "I'm not going to keep you long today. As soon as I'm finished, I want the whole class down to Target Range C. Instructor Alvis is going to review your basic sidearms with you." He held up a hand to quiet the groans of protest, and continued on with the day's schedule, explaining events that were and were not going to be happening at and around Garden in the near future.

As he spoke, he let his awareness drift outwards until he could sense his spear, leaning in defiance of Garden rules against the edge of the holoscreen behind him. He felt the creature inside it quiver in recognition as it noticed his attention through the loose junction connecting them.

_Hiryuu_, he said, _tell me what's on my computer screen_.

The Guardian told him. Moving his hand almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes from the class or interrupting his explanations, Kyler opened up an instructor-restricted program and accessed the connections leading from the classroom to the Garden's central computer network.

Three study panels had been turned on. Following Hiryuu's directions, Kyler accessed the one belonging to Jonah, who was not as attentive as he should have been.

Sure enough, the screen that came up was, according to his GF, the Garden Festival homepage. It was an attractive site, and it was turning into a big event, but it was hardly appropriate for class time. A few indiscernible key strokes and Kyler closed the connection.

Jonah flinched in surprise as the power to his study panel was cut, and looked around guiltily to see if anyone had noticed. Kyler was expecting this, and caught his gaze as it swept the room. He held it long enough for the cadet to realize what had happened and for the embarrassment to start suffusing his expression, before looking back out over the class.

The flow of his speech faltered only slightly as Hiryuu alerted him to the icon showing an unread e-mail. He hesitated, got the thread of his words back, and decided to open it.

His smile widened a bit at the corners as Hiryuu read it to him. It was from Headmaster Cid, in response to one Kyler had sent earlier.

"Before I dismiss you," he said, raising his voice to catch the attention of the few drifters, "I have an announcement. As you know, Garden has been unable in the past year to procure any contracts suitable for SeeD examinations." The class – who consisted almost solely of SeeD candidates who had passed either the written test or the GF prerequisite, or both – was suddenly all ears.

He continued, "As an alternative, the Commander instigated the apprenticeship program, based on that used by the White SeeDs. That is now being disbanded. Too many students were cheating the system, and the qualifications of all those who reached SeeD level through this program are now suspect. We instructors have been asked to announce that all those who attained SeeDship through an apprenticeship will be placed on reduced pay until they can be given some sort of practical examination under the supervision of an instructor, member of Garden faculty, or a SeeD who has been specially approved. In other words, until they have passed a regular exam.

"As for all of you, Garden administration is redoubling its search for suitable examination opportunities. To that end, a selection of Garden cadets will, upon recommendation by an instructor, be assigned to the research site currently being operated by Garden in the Centra Crater area."

He allowed time for the excited whispers this caused to die down. "This reassignment will be considered permanent until one attains SeeDship, after which you will, of course, be able to apply for a transfer as normal. Students selected for this will be alerted in the very near future. You will be given plenty of time to pack.

"That's all. Dismissed to Target Range C."

The class left, chattering excitedly.

When the door slid closed, Kyler sat and leaned back in his chair, his feet crossed on the desk in another flagrant breach of Garden decorum. He was thinking about the transfer.

_I know what's going on at the so-called research site. It'll be good experience for the cadets I send; they'll be present when, as Cid so poetically put it, the first seeds of a new future are being sown…it's so hard to travel out there, personnel are going to be sparse, so the transfer students could have an unusual amount of responsibility laid on them…and after Centra's awoken them to what being a SeeD is like, it's off to Esthar, where they're still reeling from the Lunar Cry…_

_…Yes…I know who I'll send._

_I may even put in for a transfer myself.

* * *

_

_Location: …Hmm?

* * *

_

Akira Isamu was aware of several different things as he came to, but could not immediately figure out exactly what they were.

As consciousness reasserted itself, his first thought was: _Something's wrong with the sky._

His second:_ I have a splitting headache._

His third: _I'll never drink in a Deling City pub again._

His fourth: _What in Hyne's name just happened?_

In the hope it would resolve the issue, he voiced the last though aloud.

"Ah, you are awake! Trader is glad."

Akira's fifth thought was that he was lying down, a fact corroborated when a figure who was apparently standing up appeared over him. Its voice was slightly high-pitched and strangely childish, but Akira's sixth thought, as he stared up into the tiny, beady black eyes set in a face of smooth, shiny yellow skin, was that nature would never be so cruel as to do that to a child.

"You have been resting a long while. You should get up, and stretch your muscles." Freakishly long fingers supported his shoulders as he was helped into a sitting position on what felt like a bench. The change of position brought the rest of the figure's stunted body into view; he was dressed in a dark green robe.

_Wait a minute. Short…yellow skin…green robe…big hands…Shumi! He's not a human, he's a Shumi!_

As if the realization was visible in his eyes, the thin lips of the Shumi – Trader; they named themselves after their hobbies – split into a grin, revealing large, unnervingly while teeth. "You seem to be almost alert."

Akira, trying to think through a head full of fog, was not so sure. "What…what happened?"

"We have travelled together for a while now. We arrived here this morning, and I was asked to give you a drink."

"I don't remember travelling."

This earned him another grin. "And that was the purpose of the drink."

Akira looked around blearily. He _was_ on a bench, in what looked like the beginnings of a park; new grass was growing around him, and he noticed people nearby planting trees. The wind carried with it the sounds of conversation and construction; not far off, short white buildings were being erected. The polished white metal shone brightly in the hot sunlight.

Hot sunlight…what was wrong with the sunlight? Akira stared upwards at the drifting clouds, and then around at the scenery again, trying to rid himself of his disorientation. The ground was rather barren for the plains of Galbadia. Was he close to the desert? How had he gotten there?

Then the wind blew again, and this time it carried with it a smell, a barely discernable and virtually indescribable reek of something alien and dangerous. Horrible memories came rushing back, and as Akira recognized reddish tint to the sunlight, he realized where he was.

The Trader had waited patiently as Akira had explored his environment, and now stepped back quickly, waving his hands in a conciliatory manner, as the man sprang to his feet, grabbing convulsively for a sword that was no longer attached to his belt. "Please, be calm!"

"Calm? What do you mean, calm! How the hell did you get me into Esthar!"

"Trader told you, we travelled," said the Trader, trying to get him to sit down, glancing nervously at the gardeners who had looked up inquisitively at Akira's shouting. "Sometimes by foot, sometimes by train. Please, do not draw attention to yourself."

"I never wanted to come to Esthar!" He grabbed the smaller figure by the shoulders and shook him, becoming aware even through his confusion and anger that the Shumi was both harder to move and less intimidated than he should have been. "Tell me how you did this and why, or I'll…"

"You will do nothing." The youthful, sing-song cadence was still in the Trader's voice, but there was an added touch of iron. "Firstly, because the drink is still in your blood and it dulls your strength. Secondly, because Trader is armed and you are not. Finally, because you are alone and Trader is with his brother."

"Your…brother?…" Akira became distantly aware that the sun was being blocked out.

His first impression as he turned was that an elephant had snuck up on him, but this creature was larger. Its feet were like enormous splayed fins, and its blue-green skin was as smooth and shiny as the Shumi's; ears like sails spread out from the sides of its head, and from between them two tiny black eyes scrutinized him carefully. From the front of its face sprouted a long, disproportionaly thin trunk. Before Akira could recover from his surprise, the appendage uncurled, wrapped around his waist and, as delicately as a man would handle a china doll, sat him back on the bench.

"Shoopuf has your sword in his saddlebags," said Trader conversationally. "He will return it to you when he is given permission."

Akira gathered the nerve to turn his eyes away from the mammoth creature. "Permission from whom?"

Trader caught and held his gaze. "You are not very frightened, Mr. Akira. You have been apparently kidnapped, disarmed, and dragged around the globe, and yet you do not panic. You ask questions. Trader is impressed."

"Good, I'm glad," said Akira sourly. "Can you start answering questions so I can stop asking them?"

Trader sat down on the bench beside him. "Let me see…Trader can tell you that he is, in fact, an actual trader. Trader mostly works here, in Esthar…" he gestured to the horizon, rapidly disappearing behind the rising buildings, "…but has gone to other places too, Galbadia and Balamb and Centra. Trader likes to think he has _perfected _his hobby, Mr. Isamu."

"How did I get here?"

"Trader found you in a pub in the Galbadian capital…Debing City?"

"Deling."

"Just so. You were being careful not to get drunk, but Trader slipped something into your beer which made that more difficult. When you were sufficiently inebriated he guided you out just beyond the city limits, where my brother relieved you of your sword. Seriously hungover and disarmed, you were a good deal more pliable in the morning than Trader imagines you usually like to be. It has been three days since then. We have traversed the Planet quickly."

Trying to follow the Trader's odd use of the third-person, Akira could hardly believe what was happening. Why was he being held against his will? _And why_, he thought, _does it have to be _here_, of all places?_

There were too many questions, too many to be answered quickly. He settled on one that was right in front of him. "What," he asked, waving at the construction, "is all this?"

"Trader cannot tell you. He is only half certain himself." He adjusted his position on the bench. "But he suspects that many of your questions will soon be answered."

"Alright." There was another question pressing at Akira's mind; it was perhaps not the most urgent, but it needed to be asked. "Why do you call the Shoopuf your brother?"

Trader actually looked a little embarrassed. "Ah, yes. He is not an actual brother, that is true."

"I should think not!"

"He is actually Trader's cousin. But we have journeyed together for so long that we have become like brothers." Trader's innocent gaze did not reveal any hint of falsehood or jest.

"Ah…ok, then." Akira helplessly looked around at his surroundings, trying to find anything that would return a sense of familiarity to his situation. It was as he did this that he caught sight of the two figures approaching.

Trader, perhaps seeing his expression, turned to look. "Ah…Minister Zabac, and Mr. Loire," he said, giving them a wave. "Now, Trader thinks, you will find out the purpose of your visit here."

Akira heard Trader's words only distantly as he took stock of the closing men. One he had never seen before, and he assumed this was Minister Zabac: a great, hulking, seven-foot figure, dressed in the white robes of the Estharian upper class. A short blonde beard did a poor job of concealing two wicked scars, one down the left side of his face, the other over his throat.

It was the other man, however, who held Akira's attention. Unlike his friend, he was not dressed in the ceremonial business robe; he wore instead light brown pants and a soft pastel-blue shirt. Long, dark hair hung over his shoulders. Akira had only seen him once before, but recognized him instantly.

_President Laguna Loire. I'm being detained by the Estharian government. _

_God help me, I'm really in trouble, aren't I?_

"Ah, I'm glad you're awake," Laguna said as he reached them, patting the frozen Akira on the shoulder before turning to the Trader. "I was worried you gave him an overdose, he was out so long."

"Nonsense, Commander. No one mixes drinks like Trader," the Shumi said.

"I should have had more confidence." Laguna turned to the man on the bench. "And Mr. Akira Isamu. Welcome back to Esthar. I understand you haven't been here in…what, nearly three years?"

Swallowing, Akira was able to find his voice. "Y-yes sir. Not since the Lunar Cry, sir."

"Fascinating." The President caught and held his eyes for a moment, sizing him up. Up close, he looked as affable as he did on the news networks, but now there was a glint of calculation in his eyes that Akira did not much care for.

_He's planning something for me._

"Anyway," said Laguna, turning back to the Shumi, "If you don't mind, Trader, there was a bit of a construction accident over in the west block earlier. One of the underground facilities collapsed."

"Oh, my! Was anyone hurt?"

"No, there was no-one in it at the time. I was wondering if you and your amazing partner," he smiled at the Shoopuf, "wouldn't mind going and helping with the clean up."

"We would be happy to, sir."

"Thanks. I'll come and track you down when it's time for Mr. Isamu to leave, so you can return his sword to him."

_That sounds promising._

With a polite goodbye, the Trader and Shoopuf set off. A long rope ladder hung from the Shoopuf's saddle; Trader grabbed on to it as it swung past, and was climbing up it even as the Shoopuf began trekking towards whatever was on the other side of this mysterious compound. As they left, Akira saw the long, thick tail protruding from the elephantine monster's hindquarters, and the sail-like fin that adorned it.

Next, Laguna had a word with Ward Zabac, whispering something urgent to him. Stewing in his terror, Akira was just able to make out the words, "_Tell… faster… how they got an Ellone…_"

And then, faster than Akira would have liked, Ward was dismissed and he was left alone with the leader of the largest and most powerful country on the Planet.

"Let's go for a walk," the President said happily. Inside, Akira curled up and whimpered.

* * *

It was not as bad as he expected. The President chatted absent-mindedly, but used words like _weather_ or _repair effort_ or _big plans_. _Desertion_ and _capital punishment_ were not terms mentioned, but a tiny part of Akira's mind, the part that had only allowed him to return to Esthar once in the last eighteen years, felt certain they were lurking just beneath the surface. 

In spite of his worst fears, though, he was surprised to find himself relaxing. In the past, he had only seen the President once, on a broadcast throughout Esthar City in the minutes following the Lunar Cry. Then he had seemed liked a Phoenix rising above the ashes of its nest, something awe-inspiring and powerful and somewhat distant and strange; standing on a massive holoscreen, he had for a brief instant made thousands believe it was only a matter of time before order reasserted itself, and his heartfelt exhortations had brought a touch of sanity back into a world spiralling into madness.

Up close, he was a completely different person. He was clumsy, he stuttered, he tripped over his own feet, and he always smiled. He projected an atmosphere of almost childish naivety and optimism.

All in all, he was incredibly charismatic. Akira found himself relaxing after a short time.

Before they had been walking for ten minutes, Akira was already beginning to get an idea of the layout of the compound. His first impression was that it was designed for recreation – it was filled with small gardens and courtyards – but he could not imagine why anyone would want to build something in as remote a location as this. He was also beginning to realize that the walled compound was a good deal larger that he had originally thought.

Asked about its size, Laguna frowned. "I'm not sure exactly, but…I imagine you've been to Balamb?"

"Country or town?"

"Either."

"Both."

"The whole area, from one wall to the other, is about the size of Balamb town."

Akira whistled between his teeth. "That's pretty big. What's it for? Is it a military operation?"

"Can't remember." A look at the President's face told Akira that he was lying, that he was not bothering to conceal that fact, and that nothing Akira could do would get him any other answer.

He considered several possible responses, and decided on, "Oh, well."

"Right." Laguna turned them down a path towards a small courtyard in which grass was just starting to grow. "As long as we're talking about the military, I may as well remind you that there's a warrant on your head for arrest under the charge of desertion."

The subject was broached without warning, and Akira was caught with his guard down and completely unprepared.

"I remember," he managed.

"According to the law Sorceress Adel set down, desertion is equivalent to treason against the government of Esthar, and capital punishment is mandatory."

"I would have thought that it would have been repealed by now, sir."

"We haven't had a lot of trouble with deserters since the revolution. No one's bothered about it."

"Sir, I left eighteen years ago. Is it really worth the trouble?" It was not the best defence, but it was all he was able to think of while trying not to panic.

"That all depends." Laguna was smiling again, but Akira did not like it any more. "Why don't you tell me what happened."

* * *

What happened was complicated. 

Akira Isamu had, at one point, been a Estharian patriot, born and raised in the biggest city in the most powerful country on the Planet. His father had been a member of the military and a staunch supporter of Adel. His mother was not so pleased with the country's magical dictator; as a child, he had very little understanding of the fights his parents got into, but was able to grasp that his mother's dissatisfaction played a part in starting them. He himself often fought with his little brother, who took after his mother much more than Akira.

In the Opal District within which his family's residence was located, it was a tradition for young men eligible for conscription to join the Angel Hands division. When he was seventeen, Akira's father died – not in action, as his mother always said would happen, but through illness – and Akira lied about his age and took that tradition upon himself.

In the beginning, it was all he had hoped it would be. His first few years were spent beating down the resistance in the far corners of the country, and protecting the scientists, engineers, and builders traveling to projects like the Lunatic Pandora and the Ouroboros – the massive electronic wall that would one day protect Esthar from its enemies.

He had not realized, in the beginning, how numerous those enemies were. He found out a year after he enlisted, when the Second Sorceress War began.

2SW lasted for three years; by the end of the first, he was already sick of it. Under Adel's orders, the Angel Hands were ordered into situations they could barely hope to survive, and commanded to commit atrocities no human should be a part of. However reluctantly, Akira helped to wipe dozens of villages off the map, breaking apart families and kidnapping little girls, all so Adel could find someone to pass her power on to.

According to the Centran calendar, which was still in use in Esthar, it was 4423 – that was 177 AfCen, by the Galbadian calendar – in the last year of the War, when the Angels were ordered into a battle they truly could not win, trying to conquer an enemy outpost on Galbadian soil. Akira was the only member of the division who survived. He decided then he was not going back.

Desperate, wounded and shell-shocked, Akira had wandered for a while until he found shelter in a small place called Suni Village. A young barmaid had helped him, given him shelter and food and kept him hidden. He never learned her name, but was forever grateful to her for helping him at a time when Estharians were hated and feared.

One night, sick with a fever, he had wandered out and found a cemetery behind the town. He dreamed of a beautiful voice calling him forward, into an old mausoleum…

The lock had long since been broken off, the grave's contents stolen. The stone lid of the coffin had been thrown aside and shattered, and whatever corpse had once laid there was gone. In its place lay a sword, apparently new and untarnished by its foul surroundings.

That sword…that sword was alive.

* * *

Akira had not meant to say so much, but once he started the whole thing had just come tumbling out. He had certainly never intended to talk about the sword, and had every expectation of being scoffed at. He was surprised to see that Laguna was still listening seriously. 

"Alive in what way?"

Akira had to think carefully before responding. "It…it has a voice, I think. A sentience. Awareness. She taught me things."

"Like what? And who's _she_?"

"_She_ is the sword. Seraphim, that's her name. And she taught me magic, mostly. Para-magic, I suppose is the technical term. Energy control." As he spoke, he lay his hand palm-up on his lap, and wiggled his fingers; tiny spheres of white light appeared and danced in the air above them.

Laguna noticed the display, but did not comment on it. "I've heard stories of Guardian Forces that become trapped inside physical objects. I've seen one, actually; one got into the power network of the Presidential Palace. It took three weeks for Odine to get it out."

"I agree that she's a GF, but I'm not sure she's trapped. That just doesn't feel right."

Laguna shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I suppose. What happened after you met her?"

"I travelled." Akira sat a bit straighter. "Seraphim gave me a bit of purpose back. She's a very calm spirit, you see, but she hates undead. She recognized me as a fighter, figured out that I was looking for a way to redeem myself, and offered me a way that coincided with her wants. I became a freelance undead-hunter."

"I know a bit about this part," said Laguna, settling back. "You travelled through most of the continents, although you avoided Esthar. You carved out quite a name for yourself, too."

"Huh."

"You _did_ come back to Esthar once, though, didn't you?"

Akira didn't answer immediately. Memories lurking at the edge of consciousness were beginning to force their way back.

He had been trailing a man, a person he had clashed with over and over again, a man who loved to tap into old, dark forms of magic and spread the chaos he found around a bit before vanishing. Akira had decided to put and end to him once and for all, even if it meant following him into Esthar and risking capture by the authorities.

What he found, when he was finally able to sneak in, was a world turned on its head. He had known about Esthar's retreat from the War and withdrawal from world affairs, of course, but he could never have imagined the social overhaul that had happened in his absence.

His brother, when Akira found him, had joined the Adel Resistance Movement. The movement itself had become the New Etharian Reformist Party, and was in control of the newly democratic government. Its leader, Laguna Loire himself, was leading a pacifistic revolution that was slowly seeping into the darkest corners of Esthar's culture and transforming them. The whole country was, after the being throttled by Adel for so long, stretching, looking around and preparing for something new. The new Esthar was everything Akira had hoped it could be.

The peace was shattered when the Lunatic Pandora floated like a three-mile-high-half-that-wide ghost from the past over the city. Suddenly nothing was certain anymore.

Akira had turned from a brawl with looting Galbadian soldiers to see the dark, red-ringed spot of the Cry taking shape on the face of the moon. His mind had rejected the enormity of it; for just a moment he had believed it was the eye of Hyne looking down on him from heaven. Then he had seen it bulge outwards, and burst, sending a stream of energy and monsters towards the Planet…

Later, he learned that it had hit the Pandora itself, which had parked itself over Tear's Point at the other side of the continent. In the middle of the city, it did not seem that distant. Monsters had poured out of the sky, smashing into buildings and still somehow surviving, rising from the ashes to spread havoc and destruction. Like rain brings the smell of ozone, the monsters brought with them a strange, alien reek, a stink that could never have been produced by human machines or earthly animals; the thunderous roar of the Cry, the shrieks of the monsters and the extraterrestrial odour had been enough to drive some people out of their minds.

But the worst part for Akira was the redness that dyed the sky, so that it looked like the City's life blood was pouring down its buildings. Akira had could not remember the impact of the noise, had endured the smell, and had long since gotten over the hordes of murdering monsters, but the memory of that red sky, of the corruption of light, had shaken him to the core and remained with him in his dreams.

Distantly, he heard Laguna saying, "I heard you fought two Enoyles at the same time. That's pretty impressive."

Oh, God, the monsters. He remembered the Enoyles: he was trying to help a couple whose jerky and mechanical movements had made them look ill, only to see their faces split with inhuman laughter as they transformed into those gigantic flying beasts. He had beaten them, in the end; he exhausted his supply of curative magic and potions, and had nearly died anyway, but he beat them.

He and his brother had fled, soon after. A group of survivors in the outer city decided to run, and Akira and a group of guards had joined them. They had fought their way to the Horizon Bridge, and run over the massive construction for hours with monsters snapping at their heels.

Midway along the bridge between the East and West Continents was Fisherman's Horizon, an independent, pacifistic city of Estharian and Galbadian artisans and mechanics disillusioned by their countries' militaristic policies. The recently mobilized Balamb Garden was stationed there, and SeeD forces blocked off the bridge completely, trapping the monsters in Esthar. If the Garden had been somewhere else, the city would have been obliterated.

Akira related all this slowly to the President. Laguna listened carefully, and sat back to consider the story when it was finished. Akira took a moment to look around at the landscape, to see the tint of redness lingering in the air and smell the hint of Moon-vapour still carried on the breeze. Even three years later, Esthar had not completely recovered. Akira wondered if it ever would.

"Fascinating," said Laguna. "And then you got back to monster hunting?"

"Yes, sir. As you can imagine, there were plenty of new monsters to hunt."

"What ever happened to the man you trailed here?"

Akira shrugged. "I never picked up the trail again. He disappeared completely."

"Not completely."

Akira blinked, and took a photograph handed to him by the President.

The picture was blurred, but Akira recognized the muscular figure, the long, sandy hair.

"It's him!" he breathed.

Laguna nodded. "Listen carefully; this is how things are going to work. You have admitted to desertion, which amounts to treason; however, Esthar is no longer so strict about these things." He smiled. "Instead of being put to death, you will be put into service. I've had a word with the Commander of SeeD; from this moment until further notice you will be collaborating with them. Your objective is to put a stop to this man's actions.

"Whatever you do, bring him to an _end_. I'm afraid we don't care if he's alive or dead afterward."

* * *

Notes and Trivia:  
_-- I'm afraid this won't be the last time I allude to other FF titles. Hope it doesn't bother everybody too much._


	3. Ch III: Dust and Poison

_Final Fantasy VIII and all related concepts are the property of Square._

* * *

**Chapter III: Dust and Poison**

* * *

In the beginning – most sources agree – there was the Great Hyne, who created among other things humanity, to serve as tools. Having finished the Planet and being satisfied with the work he had accomplished, he fell asleep, leaving his creation in the hands of his servants. 

Unfortunately, he woke up to discover his servants had multiplied far beyond his intentions. He decided to cull the herd.

Some say that he created a great two-headed monster to use as a weapon, and sent that after the humans. Others say he went himself, burning the people away with his magic. Most agree that it was the children he attacked first. Everybody agrees that humanity decided to fight back.

However it began, Hyne lost. Humans were just too plentiful, too clever. The servants rose up and threw down the master.

To save himself, Hyne gave up a part of his body to the humans.

To some it was a treasure beyond compare, a spark of godhood held by mankind. To others it was a trick, a scrap thrown to distract the dogs while the prey escaped. Here the stories begin branching away like rivers; some sects – such as that practiced faithfully by the quickly-learning student Rayner, who when last observed was being given lessons about a gun he would never use – say that Hyne, impressed with humanity's resilience, watched and studied them from a distance and decided to help them along, to see just how far their own powers could take them. Other faiths – such as that learned by Akira, who on the other side of the planet was being interrogated rather thoroughly about a man he'd given up hope of finding again – say that Hyne escaped by blending his essence with that of the cosmos, and could now only be found in the elemental energies that made up and were created by the Moon and Planet. Still others teach that Hyne the Magician hid himself in shame and defeat, and seek fervently to hunt him down and take the power he kept from humanity. Some say that Hyne is just biding his time until he is strong enough to finish the slaughter he started.

Everybody agrees that if Hyne was found and made whole again – if Hyne's real shape was revealed – it would be the beginning of an age unlike any other, when humans would take the prize that was rightfully theirs, would be acknowledged as the equal of their god, and would rise to the stars with his power lifting them.

Plenty of theologians get excited about this, and spend a lot of time thinking about the paradise that will result when the lost part of Hyne's body is found. In their enthusiasm, they sometimes forget about the part of Hyne's body that was _never _lost, and its significance to the world.

What was left behind gave power to the Sorceresses.

* * *

_Location: Balamb Garden

* * *

_

"What is…shot-casting method."

"Shaping a spell into a bolt or stream, and aiming it yourself instead of relying on a GF."

"Shape-casting."

"Range and duration extension, power enhancement, things like that. Exceptionally delicate control over the spell, basically."

"Snap-casting."

"Letting just a bit of energy from the spell loose. Creates a very small and controlled effect, but weakens the actual spell."

"Flash-casting."

"Squeezing all the power you can from a spell without using verbal commands. Extremely advanced technique, not many people have the skill to do it. Not even you, Chanda."

Instructor Alvis was bit of a perfectionist, especially when it came to firearms, but Rayner had been practicing for longer than Alvis had been teaching and Chanda's accuracy was renowned amongst the educational faculty. The pair and a group of other students Alvis had been unable to find fault with had been excused.

Now, as the sun banished the early-spring chill from the air, the two were strolling in the direction of one of the sparring areas just beyond Garden's perimeter. The day had not quite warmed up yet, and Rayner had been surprised to see Chanda wearing her usual halter top; as they walked he kept glancing at her quizzically, wondering why she didn't have goosebumps.

"Memorization."

"Learning a spell from memory. Eliminates the need to draw it, but it's more difficult than regular casting because you're using your own strength."

"Sorcery."

"Come on, Chanda, _everybody_ knows what that is."

"Thaumaturgy, then."

"Miracle-working. Magical skills that can't be accounted for by genetics, para-magic or sorcery. No-one knows what causes it."

"Good."

This particular sparring range for advanced students was little more than a flat swath of dirt surrounded by rocks. The only visible piece of electronic equipment was a solitary metal cylinder set up discretely off to one side. The sensors Chanda and Rayner knew were dotting the area were

completely invisible.

"Got any harder questions that that?" asked Rayner as he moved to one side of the field and pulled the glove off his right hand before digging around in his PaCC for his weapon.

Chanda was inspecting the cylinder, and his question did not immediately register in her mind. "Hmm? Oh... are there any thaumaturgists at Garden?"

"What? How am I supposed to know?"

"Never mind." Chanda pressed on a small sensor and the top of the cylinder opened, revealing a small keypad and display. A mechanical voice said, "Sparring Zone A12. Input student number."

Chanda did so. The voice continued, "ID check... confirmed. Select exercise type."

As Chanda imputed information, Rayner snapped his weapon into place and powered it up. As he sighted along it down the length of the field, he gave Syldra a little mental nudge, pushing it into awareness.

Its multi-toned, lazy buzz was slightly annoyed. "_Hhhheerr hhppaarrttnneerr hhiiss hhnneeww. Hhwwweee hhaarree hhffaammiilliiaarr._"

It did not take Rayner as long to decipher Syldra's speech, because he was thinking something similar._ Chanda and Phantom may not be as compatible as you and I yet, but that is no reason to be lax in our guard. Chanda is a better fighter than she believes. _

"_Hhyyoouu hhaarree hhssttrroonnggeerr._"

_But she is faster. And we don't know what Phantom can do yet._

"_Hhhhmmmm._" Conceding the point, Syldra readied itself.

The electronic voice was saying, "Exercise parameters verified. Please stand by." A hologram appeared in the air above it, a wide orange screen with a series of coloured bars extended horizontally from its centre.

_Those are our stats_, Rayner remembered. He stared at them, trying to figure out where Chanda was junctioning her magic, and knowing that she was doing the same for him.

Chanda took her place at the other side of the field and limbered herself up, stretching and taking her fan from her belt. Rayner waited patiently. _I'm a better fighter, and anyway she can't hurt me unless she's able to cover the distance between us. She's better with magic than me, but she's not very confident, and that makes it harder for her to resist _my _magic. She's got a GF I'm not familiar with and she's more agile, but those are her only advantages._

_Syldra may be right; I might not have too much to worry about._

"Ready to get beaten?" Chanda called across as she finished her warm-up.

"I won't be beaten."

"I've got a few new surprises up my sleeves."

"So do I." Rayner adjusted his balance and waited.

When Chanda spoke next, it was to shout at the console. "Program open. Ready!"

The electronic voice was completely indifferent. "Match set. Objective: Eliminate 75 of opponent's HP."

"Begin."

The instant the word was said Rayner was already attacking, triggering his firing mechanism and sending a stream of gold across the field; Chanda, anticipating or recognizing the attack, jumped aside, back-pedalled a step as the beam followed her, and then raced forward, gaining what precious distance she could up the field before her opponent could fire again.

She took only two steps. Rayner saw her stop just an instant before his next shot could go; the attack fired over her head as she ducked and rolled. As he moved his weapon around to catch her, she raised her fan, turning it in her hand so her fingers twisted around the bottom, and deflected the end of the shot.

The next shot she tried to jump. In the second before the stream of energy faded, Rayner adjusted his aim, and the final moments of the attack scored a hit along her side. There was too little power left in the shot to cut through her shirt, let alone burn the skin underneath, but the kinetic force of the blast was enough to knock her back a metre and undo her efforts to advance. Dust spat from beneath her as she rolled to her feet.

Rayner shot a glance at the hologram; he could not be certain, but he thought her health bar was a tiny bit smaller than it had been before. He didn't even need to land a shot on her, really; as long as he kept her at bay and she kept trying to approach, she'd run out of strength long before he did.

He kept a close eye on her as she recovered her balance. Then she grinned, waved at him, and replaced her fan in her belt.

_What's she playing at?_

Chanda's hands were full, she had pulled something out of her PaCC…and now she was running straight at him, one arm pulling back to throw the whatever-it-was.

Rayner shot at the ground in front of her, forcing her to swerve. He tried to aim at her to fire a more debilitating bolt, but even at the other side of the field she was ducking out of the way of his barrel as he turned it to follow her…

_When Chanda first came here, Dr. Kadowaki had to test her to be certain that her precise senses were the result of genetics and not something more supernatural. If she hadn't confirmed that, everybody would have been certain Chanda was a thaumaturgist, because it would be the only plausible way she could be so completely aware of what was happening around her…_

Rayner realized he was distracted as Chanda dove forward and rolled, quickly gaining another metre. He aimed, and this time she did not even try to dodge, just lobbed the object in her left hand forward as the shot went off.

The beam struck the obstacle and blasted it aside, but was deflected enough to miss her as she sidestepped, whipping whatever was in her other hand in his direction.

It flew with unerring accuracy, and Rayner reeled as a rubber ball struck him squarely in the forehead.

He fired off another shot as he caught his balance, but the blow had dizzied him and Chanda did not even need to dodge. He shook off his disorientation, and took aim again – only to be struck by a Blizzard spell.

_I think that's against the rules,_ he thought as, his reflexes dulled by the cold, he missed his next attack.

If she wanted to raise the stakes, she'd have to deal with the consequences. Rayner had memorized a spell long ago; he took aim with his weapon and, as she dodged aside, called up that power.

"_Thunder_!"

The lancing bolt of electricity caught her off guard and in mid-jump; she stumbled and fell, and was unable to right herself before the next blast from his gun caught her and sent her sprawling into the dirt.

As she struggled to her feet, Rayner snuck a glance at the scoreboard. His own HP energy was depleted slightly – weariness, no doubt – but Chanda's was noticeably shorter. And now, faced with repeated failures, she would be getting flustered. Soon she would begin making more mistakes, and he would have virtually won.

Indeed, instead of moving again as she got up, she stood bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Rayner considered dishing her another blow as punishment for not taking an engagement seriously – any instructor would do the same – but instead called out, "Giving up?"

"Not yet." Her response came haltingly.

"Then I can shoot you?"

"Give me a moment."

"Why should I?"

"Humour me."

"You'd be in trouble if you were fighting an instructor."

"So would you! Come, Phantom!"

Rayner knew what was happening as green flame spurted from beneath her feet, rising up and shaping into orbs of fire that spread out and shank into nonexistance, but it was too late to do anything about it.

_She's not panting, she's chanting. I've screwed up._

"_Veiling Mist_!"

The air darkened as Chanda's body vanished, and tendrils of fog began drifting up from the ground, blending themselves into a dark human-shape column of vapour. Yellow lantern eyes peered into Rayner's for a moment, and then Phantom spread the murky folds of his robe and exploded outward in a cloud of spray that hit Rayner with an audible _slap_.

Rayner could not believe that the small impact was intended as an attack, and braced himself for a stronger blow; when nothing came, he peered through the fog looking for Chanda, first with his eyes, then with a Scan spell.

The spell pierced the mist easily, and presented him with a frozen image of her a few feet in front of him, a closed fan clenched in her fist and drawn back for a blow.

His left arm flew up and the attack was blocked with a clatter of metal; the barrel withdrew into his gun with a click as he snapped his right arm forward in a punch that hit nothing but air. He lunged forward and grabbed with his left, feeling his fingers sliding along cloth as Chanda retreated to a safe distance. He sought for her in mist fruitlessly for a moment, and was about to Scan again when he got kicked in the stomach.

The strike sent him reeling backwards, and he was still struggling for breath when another blow sent his legs out from underneath him. He braced his hands beneath him and pushed himself upwards, only realizing he should have left an arm free when a kick to the side knocked him down again.

"_Thunder_," he whispered as he rolled to his feet. As he gathered energy for the spell, Syldra searched through the fog for their target and, to their mutual amazement, could not find her.

Rayner rolled upright, but was still off-balance when another series of silent blows toppled him again. _I'm getting owned._

Desperately, as he jumped up again he shot off a Thunder spell wildly. In a sudden flash of intuition, he spun his body completely around, and with a thrill of satisfaction felt his forearm bounce off Chanda's ankle, blocking the kick that would have downed him again.

Not wasting a moment, he latched on to Syldra's power and forced it into his arms and legs, lunging and slamming his gun-arm forward…

…into Chanda's midriff. The impact picked her off her feet and threw her backwards. The _whoosh _of air escaping her lungs and the _thump _of her hitting the ground were the first noises he had heard from her since the mist came up.

As he opened his gun's barrel again and readied a shot, a siren split the air, and the mechanical voice returned.

"Exercise complete."

* * *

The underground Shooting Range C was filled with sound, almost drowning out the _snaps_ of guns discharging. 

"Damn, damn, damn! Damn woman got the damn promotion I damn well wanted!"

Kyler knew he shouldn't – his friend's pride was fragile enough as it was – but he couldn't stop a snort of laughter at Instructor Diego Alvis' reaction to the news of their co-worker's promotion. When faced with extreme emotion, deep thought, or intense concentration, it was that man's habit to wrinkle his nose; that in turn made his enormous moustache wiggle around his face. His upper lip was now doing a credible impression of a caterpillar having a seizure.

"It's not damn funny!" The muscular man was pacing back and forth, glancing every few seconds at the students practising. A few of them were looking oddly back at him, and he lowered his voice. "Not damn funny."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Kyler regained his composure. "But you have to admit she deserved it."

"Humph."

"And she did need a change from teaching."

"Humph. I never found out what she damn well did teach."

"Exotic Anatomy."

"Yes, but I never found out what that _is_."

The banter of the two instructors was interrupted when Diego had to go and harangue one cadet who was apparently demonstrating improper form, or focus, or something else he didn't approve of. When he returned, he and Kyler stood silently for a moment, watching the students at work.

Finally, Kyler said, "As long as we're talking about Melva and her promotion…"

"Humph."

"You know the Headmaster has recommended that we transfer a group of candidates out where she is?"

"I heard. Doesn't concern me, I don't teach any damn homerooms."

"I was wondering, though, if you had any recommendations concerning who I should send."

"If you want to send anybody."

"I do. Nothing's being accomplished around here. We've hit a slump in business, and there are no chances for examination."

"Ha. You know they say the Neo-Ultimeceist cult has a damn headquarters in Centra?"

"I've heard."

"Hmm." Diego scratched his chin, and the caterpillar relapsed. "Well, Farrell's been waiting a long time, she should go. Leiden's pretty industrious, and Valentino's a crack shot…"

"I was thinking of Rayner."

Diego nodded. "He's pretty good. I think he's pretty much a shoe-in for SeeDship." He chuckled. "You'd probably end up dragging along his girlfriend too, though."

"If you mean Chanda, they're not dating. And I was already considering her."

"Not dating? Could have fooled me. And I should have guessed you'd be taking her." He shook his head. "Damn creepy, that one. Saw her in deaf-and-blind training a few weeks back. Can't sneak up on her; it's like she can feel your steps through the damn ground."

"According to Dr. Kadowaki, she probably can. You're the only one I know who thinks she's creepy, though." He looked around. "Speaking of those two, where are they?"

"Let them out early with a bunch of other crack shots. Sent 'em to the damn sparring range." He caught Kyler's wince. "Was that a mistake?"

"No." Kyler chuckled. "I'll stop by the infirmary after class to talk to them about transferring."

"Huh?"

"Oh, they probably won't be maimed or scarred. But they don't hold back against each other. _One_ of them at least will be there."

* * *

Location: _D-District Prison_, _Galbadia

* * *

_

President Vinzer Deling had not been a nice man. The people of the countries and city-states neighbouring Galbadia loathed him. His own people feared him. But people had flocked to his side, because people, especially Galbadians, enjoy being powerful and in charge.

Which may be why, when he was murdered in front of the assembled masses of Deling City and his power was usurped by the possessed Sorceress Edea, more people were happy than horrified. Deling had not been a nice man, and now the world was rid of him; in his place was a figure who promised more power then ever before.

Edea and Galbadia were, of course, both tools for Ultimecia. When she was defeated and her servants ousted, the government was left leaderless. It continued for about half a year, fuelled by momentum and belligerence, and collapsed.

As a new government grows into place, SeeD watches to see that everything moves smoothly. But even an organization as wonderful as Garden cannot reach everywhere.

The D-District Prison, the ultimate monument to Deling's cruelty, is a place it cannot reach.

Coming up the Level 3 stairs of Prison Tower 2 were a pair of guards. Their modified boots clicked softly as they walked; in contrast, the shoes of the prisoner they guided before them rang loudly against the metal floor.

Level 3 was identical to every other low-security level in the building – as low as security ever got in this place, anyway. The large circular chamber was ringed along the outside with large cells, designed to hold several prisoners at once. In the centre of the floor was a large hole; a similar one was on each level of the building, creating a central cavity that stretched from the roof into the deep sub-basements. Not for the first time, the woman the guards were escorting wondered what it would be like to stand at the top and look down into the darkness of the stories below.

Such musings were really just a way to waste time. Her guards were moving her firmly around the walkway towards a cell, one of hundreds filled with political dissidents, terrorists, rebels, judges who had made the wrong decisions, politicians who supported the wrong people, journalists who had printed the wrong kinds of articles, and people who had been heard to say the wrong kinds of things. A few guards patrolled around the levels, and an occasional orange Moomba ghosted by on some errand, its soft steps drowned out by the low drumming of distant machinery, broken every so often by the angry screech of a noiser mechanism doing its job.

The new cell was spacious, but for now she was the only one in it. Its size was the only thing that differentiated it from the high-security cell she had been removed from minutes before; it had the same stench of sweat and blood and waste and recycled air that permeated every inch of the complex, the same bluish metal coated by layers of rust, dust and grime. Everything in this place was artificial, cold metal and cheap plastic. Even the light was artificial, oozing from weak, guttering lights that only added to the foulness of the building.

The guards released the bindings around her ankles and wrists, and backed out without saying a word…unusual. Typically a prisoner could at least expect a shove. The door slid closed and locked with a click.

The woman massaged her wrists, sat against the wall, and closed her eyes.

Piercing white light lanced through her lids for an instant. She opened her eyes.

Her cell was no longer empty. Standing in front of her was a slightly tall Shumi, completely average except for his fiery-red robe and his almost human look of interest.

The two stared at each other.

Finally, the woman spoke in a voice that rasped from disuse. "Can I help you with anything?"

The Shumi nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you can, Mary Asher."

"Uh-huh." Mary glared at him suspiciously. "You have the advantage of me."

"Of course I do." Now the Shumi grinned, flashing his painfully white teeth. His voice was unusually high and rather effeminate.

"I mean, who are you?"

The Shumi spread his hands helplessly; Mary could not help noticing the scarring on his palms. "My name? Oh, names are so difficult. Being a Shumi, I suppose you expect me to give you my hobby." The Shumi regarded her thoughtfully. "Very well – the Ultimist, I suppose you could call me. The Prime Ultimist. It may not be my true hobby, of course, but it is one close to my heart."

"What the heck does it mean?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"All right, then. What do you want?"

"What do _you_ want?"

She paused for a moment. "A way out of here would be nice."

"And what makes you think I can give you that?"

Mary gestured to the metal walls around them. "I know that there's an anti-magic field in here. There's not enough energy for a decent Scan spell. But you, somehow, were able to magic your way in."

The Ultimist grinned, then reached into his robe and tossed something in her direction. "Get out yourself."

Mary looked from the Ultimist to the PaCC he had thrown her. She switched it on and called up the _Items _screen. Her eyes went wide. "Oh, my."

"I understand you're quite an accomplished alchemist. There should be enough supplies in there for you to engineer an escape." The Ultimist waved an arm at the door, trailing green light behind his fingers; Mary's ears popped, and the lock disengaged with a click. "And if you do, then we will discuss what you mentioned earlier, about helping me."

* * *

Corporal Stephen of the D-District Prison guards had the misfortune to be going up the stairs when an oily cloud of blue smoke began rolling down it. Startled, he looked upwards to see a woman walking down towards him. 

For a terrifying instant it was like seeing the ghost of a deceased prisoner floating down the stairs. The soiled rags she was dressed in hung from a frame worn thin from lack of exercise, covered skin as pale as paper. Her face was gaunt and malnourished, and her hair might once have been blonde, but now dangled in think strands, filthy with the grime of the prison. Grey liquid dripped from her lips; her deep brown eyes were bright and alert and filled with unfeeling intelligence and burning concentration…

Dark clouds were wafting past him. Corporal Stephen was vaguely aware that he had somehow ended up on the ground, and that his lungs felt like they were filling with tickling bubbles, but he could not work up the willpower to do anything about it. He could do nothing but lie there and keep breathing, breath after breath, lungful after lungful of that thick, sickly-sweet smoke…

* * *

The thick fog rolled onwards, down around the walkway, over the barrier edging the central opening, and down to the lower levels. 

Mary licked the antidote from her lips and smiled.

Behind her, the Ultimist kicked at the fallen guard. "He's still alive."

"Of course he is. There's no art in killing somebody like this." She paused to tip another vial of the antidote into her throat, coughing as it burned on the way down. "Damn, it's been too long since I've done this," she rasped. "You sure you don't want any suppressant?"

"I'm fine. No offence to your skills, Mary, but it will take a stronger hallucinogenic than this to affect me."

"That must be boring."

"One finds alternatives."

Mary tapped the buttons on a cell door, eliciting no response. She moved to another, and the doors of this one whispered open. Returning to where the Ultimist stood, reached down into the fog, and heaved the unconscious guardsman over her shoulder. Legs buckling under the weight, she carried him to the unlocked cell, where she dropped him with a grunt of effort; opening the doors again, she dragged him the last few metres inside. The door hissed closed.

When it opened again, the Ultimist was still waiting patiently. He raised what a human would have called an eyebrow when he saw Mary doing up the last buckles of the silver Galbadian breastplate. Her prisoner's outfit had been replaced by the blue G-army uniform.

"Why the change?" asked the Shumi as Mary tucked her hair into the collar.

"Quieter shoes, mainly." Mary pulled up the hood and slid the streamlined helmet over top. "They give us these big clunky things so they can hear escapees." After she fiddled with the buttons on the helmet for a moment, the four red lights on its front became noticeably redder as the optical sensors switched on. Reaching back down into the cell and producing the guard's military-issue sword, she tested its weight slightly and nodded. "Also, if anybody sees us at a distance, they may just think I'm a guard escorting a prisoner somewhere."

"Ah. Shall we continue down, then?"

"Nope. We're going up."

* * *

Sergeant Newland was glaring angrily and the panicking guards in front of him. In the bulky red uniform of an elite soldier, he certainly made an imposing figure. "How can you not know where a roomful of toxic smoke came from?" 

"Uh, w-we, uh, the custodial staff, uh, says the ventilation systems might be…"

"I don't want to know what it _might_ be! Find out what it _is_!"

"Y-y-y-yessir."

"Move it!"

The guard retreated gratefully, and Newland returned his gaze to the rows of control consoles edging the room. Guard stationed at them turned quickly back to what they were doing. One hesitated and looked back.

"S-sir, it's 0900 hours."

"Trigger the submergence system, then. You don't need to ask for instructions."

"Y-yessir." The man imputed a code and a deep rumbling vibration filled building.

Growling and pacing, Newman saw a new guard entering the room. When he knew he had been spotted, the new man stopped and saluted. The optics of Newland's helmet didn't pick up most of the tiny details about the newcomer, but _did_ take note of the heat signature concealing itself in the hallway just beyond. The helmet's computer, after a confused moment, decided it was a Moomba.

_I hate those giant furry screwballs._

"What are you doing up here?" he barked at the soldier.

"Sir! I've come to report on the cause of the smoke, sir!"

"What was it, then?"

"It was me, sir!"

And with that, the newcomer tossed something that hit the floor with a tinkle of glass.

Newland was drawing in a deep breath to shout when he saw a flash and heard a _thump_, and felt something big and hot strike him and toss him aside. He blacked out.

His vision swam back a moment later and he blearily saw the new soldier, wrapped in a cloud of sleep magic being cast by the guards stationed in the room. The figure raised a hand to its mouth, and exhaled a stream of fire that caught a soldier trying to sound an alarm.

Grunting with pain, Newland dragged himself to his knees and raised his arms, holding his hands out carefully. The computer in the mechanized appendages of his uniform recognized the movement and activated the guns in the arm. As Newland curled the fingers of one hand, they spat a barrage of bullets at the attacker.

The renegade soldier flinched in surprise as the bullets rebounded from a blue disk that flashed into view beside him.

Movement in Newland's peripheral sensors caught his attention, and he saw a red-dressed Shumi waving at him. The creature grinned and gestured, and the flash and snap of lightning were the last things Newland ever saw or heard.

* * *

"This," said Mary as she emerged into what was supposed to be sunlight, "is marvellous. It is so wonderful to be finally… out…what the _hell _is this?" 

"The submerge sequence," said the Ultimist, shouting over the din and walking carefully as the screw-shaped tower and the two connected to it burrowed into the ground. "They burrow to keep the building cool during the day and to allow people in and out."

"No, what is _this_? The sand?" Mary had to put her helmet back on to protect her eyes from the thick cloud of dust being kicked up by the rotating towers. She braced herself against a guardrail to keep from toppling over as the vibrations worked their way up from beneath her.

"We're in the middle of the Dingo Desert."

"Oh, _damn _it."

"No, no, it's fine. I don't really care if you can get away from the complex. I was…" The Ultimist's shout projected as the vibrations slowed, the rumbling died, and the building came to a halt, all but the topmost portions of the three prison towers concealed in sand. He lowered his voice. "I was interested in seeing how skilled you were in your craft." He gave his weird, humanish smile. "You escaped so quickly, one would think you had done it before."

"I've had a lot of time to think about it. Never had the right ingredients until now." Mary stared at the Shumi, who was unbothered by the flying dust. "Now what? Now that I've satisfied your curiosity, you're going to leave me here for the guards?"

"I admit that I would like to see how you would deal with robots and things that cannot be poisoned. But no, those are not my plans for you today." The Ultimist crossed his hands in front of him. "I think you will like my proposition a good deal more."

"What proposition?"

"Not here."

Turning away from her, the Ultimist closed his eyes and pressed his hands together in front of his face. He held the position for a moment.

With a suddenness that made Mary start, he threw his arms open and spun them around, each hand connecting to an elbow with a clap. A humming noise peaked a died, and in front of them the sandy air swirled, spun, and suddenly _bent_…

Now the flying sand was blowing around the entrance of a tunnel, stretching back into darkness.

The Ultimist smiled at Mary's expression. "You seemed surprised."

"_How the hell did you do that_?"

"I know many things others do not. Come with me," he said, walking into the tunnel, "and I'll tell you some of them."

_Hot dust sprayed over her as the wind picked up. The glare and the flying particles made her squint, but she could still make out the tall shape in front of her, his robe and beard waving in the breeze, his back turned toward her. He stood subserviently behind another, smaller figure, the bright light silhouetting her but not obscuring her feminine shape or long, flowing hair. _

_A thin cloud drifted in front of the sun, and the glare vanished. Suddenly she could see all the way to the horizon. Seven points of fire climbed slowly into the sky in the distance, trailing dark smoke. _

_The shadowed lady raised her arms._

The girl called Leah Ammiel woke with a start.

She sat up, stretched, yawned, and looked around blearily for a moment before figuring out she had fallen asleep at her desk.

Underneath her was _The Sorceress War_. Half the page was taken up by a picture of a woman, silhouetted against a rising sun, her arms raised as she conjured a beast to fight for her…perhaps it was because she had been looking at that eerily familiar image so recently that she had had the dream again.

Leah was no stranger to recurring dreams: she had a selection of them which returned haphazardly, sad and happy and frightening. She could not count the number of times she had woken up with a smile or tears on her face…

This particular dream brought with it a sense of anticipation and, this time, a hint of satisfaction, which she sat back to enjoy. God knew she had earned it. No, the language conventions of her classmates were rubbing off on her. _Hyne_ knew; if she could not call him by name, nobody could.

She sighed as she pushed her book aside, stood and walked into her tiny bedroom and the window beside her bed. Looking out she could see the flow of people moving in and out of a lab at the outskirts of the Garden campus. She had travelled all over the world in her life, and revisited many of her former haunts in the last couple years with Instructor Merton's insistence that she build her magic stock. She could honestly say, though, that there was nowhere on God's Planet she felt quite as comfortable right now as in Balamb Garden. Headmaster Cid had really done his job well.

She had a sour taste in her mouth. _Hyne's_ Planet.

For a moment she wondered how it would feel to be like some of those people down there who believed in a benevolent deity, a kind or loving or at least unobtrusive intelligence. Or to go the other way, to think that there was nothing to the world but dust and energy and, beyond that, the empty abyss of space…although when she thought about it, she could not imagine that atheism was a luxury afforded to many people in Garden, the home of Sorceress-fighters.

She was brooding again. Work, that was the thing: work would take her out of herself and help shave away the seconds until she found her way back to the place with the rising pillars of smoke. God knew there would be enough of it available for her, gruelling preparation right up until she entered an examination and made SeeD.

_God knows. No, _Hyne _knows, damn it._

_

* * *

_Notes and Trivia:  
_-- The reader may or may not have noticed my habit of recycling first names as last names. This is because I choose the names based of main characters based on their meaning, and have yet to find a source of information about the meanings of surnames.  
-- There are some exceptions to the above. "Mary" is a nod to Typhoid Mary, a person Mary Asher would probably look up to.  
-- The next chapter may be a bit slow in coming. Sorry; writer's block._


	4. Appendix: Calendar

**Appendix: Calendars -- Centran, Galbadian, and the SeeD Chart **

Three different calendars are of significance on the Planet in these times.

The oldest is the Centran calendar, counting the years since the great nation of Centra was founded. Once it was used all over the world; these days, it remains in use only in Esthar and some remote villages on the Centra continent.

The Galbadian calendar divides history into three time periods: Pre-Centra (PreCen), the time before the creation of the Centra nation; Before the Cry (ForCry), the period between the nation's founding and its ruin at the hands of a Lunar Cry; and After Centra (AfCen), from the Lunar Cry (year zero) onwards. Today, the Galbadian calendar remains one of the world's most widespread.

The SeeD Chart is perhaps one of the youngest, and at the moment is used only by SeeDs themselves. The year begins and ends on the same days as the Galbadian Calendar, and keeps the same months and weeks; however, year zero on the SeeD chart is the same as 195 AfCen in Galbadian reckoning, the year in which SeeD's true purpose was revealed to the world.

_Dates of Importance: _

**Founding of Centra **(0 Centran, 4246 ForCry, SC -4441)  
-- The creation of the greatest nation yet to exist on the Planet. Many details have been lost to history. Mobile Shelters are used to spread across the planet, creating several new nations.

**Centra's Cry **(4246 Centran, 0 AfCen, SC -195)  
-- A massive Lunar Cry that decimated the Centran continent. Most survivors migrated to the nations of Esthar and Dollet. Over the next century there would be repeated attempts to bring back the Centra nation, both by those who fled the continent and by those who remained.

**Centra continent abandoned **(4358 Centran, 112 AfCen, SC -83)  
-- The last struggling republic calling itself Centra folds, and none rise to replace it. The continent of Centra is officially abandoned by the major nations of the world, although many small communities remain.

**2nd Sorceress War begins **(4420 Centran, 174 AfCen, SC -21)  
-- Esthar, led by Sorceress Adel, invades the Western Continent. Her objective remains unknown for much of the war; it is only near the end the suspicion grows that she is searching for an heir for her power. It is during this war that knowledge and use of para-magic spreads from Esthar to the other nations.

**2SW ends **(4423 Centran, 177 AfCen, SC -18)  
-- Esthar abruptly withdraws from the war and sequesters itself from global affairs. Galbadia declares victory; Dollet does half a year later. The same year, radio transmissions begin to lose strength as the result of an unknown phenomenon.

**Radio Silence **(4424 Centran, 178 AfCen, SC -17)  
-- Radio waves abruptly lose all effectiveness. Static across all frequencies jams all transmissions. A connection to the Moon is theorized, but nothing is proven. HD cable becomes enters into common use.

**SeeD founded **(4429 Centran, 183 AfCen, SC -12)  
-- Receiving funding from the multinational company NORG Corp., Cid and Edea Kramer create Garden, an academy for elite mercenaries, using radical technology and training techniques, including GF junctioning and the Draw system.

**3rd Sorceress War **(4441 Centran, 183 AfCen, SC 0)  
-- The "Year of Eternity." Sorceress Ultimecia uses time travel technology to possess Edea Kramer. Radio Silence ends. The buildings used by Garden are discovered to be Centra shelters. Cid Kramer reveals SeeD was created to provide a defence against the Sorceress, and gives command of Garden over to SeeD, who are able to endure Time Compression and kill Ultimecia. The SeeD Chart marks time from the moment SeeD assumed control of both the Garden and the mission of defence.

(4443 Centran, 197 AfCen, SC 2)  
-- NORG Corp. declares bankruptcy. Rival company Morbuks Limitless acquires much of the company's property, including the Centra Shelters being leased by Garden. The story of "Hunting Hyne" begins.

(4444 Centran 198 AfCen, SC 3)  
-- A date discovered by SeeD Special Class Cole Guzo, on a contract investigating a pro-Ultimecia cult. Significance unknown.


End file.
